RecreatingLove (A Tale of what Sherlock wanted)
by CastingAnthems
Summary: This is the story of Sherlock Holmes son Roman. His journey began after the dead of his mother Irene Adler who Roman believed to be someone else growing up. Now Roman needs to find his father. however no one will allow that to happen. But the people he's meets on his adventure make worth his while. All while falling in love with someone he know's he shouldn't.
1. Chapter 1 Five Stages of Grief

Extended Fanfiction (Sherlock)

By: Colvin

January 4, 2015

**Disclosure**: I own nothing of the original characters or events from the original Sherlock BBC Television show.

Little Summary: Roman Davis lives a normal life, almost. But when his mother is killed his world his turned upside down.

**Chapter one: 5 Stages of Grief After Acknowledgement **

"I'm sorry Mr. Davis, but your mother is dead."

_Who? My mother? ...Dead? Why?_

Words like that shot threw me worse than a power cord gone bad or even worse, a gun. It blew me into a reality i didn't think humans experienced, so raw and spiritual. Leaving my wounds to bleed and be infected with this speak. Those words left me confused. A stampede of pain rushed through my head. And my heart seemed to be rioting in my chest. My lungs froze up and i couldn't breathe.

This wasn't real.

"H-how?" My tongue quivered and my voice shattered.

The man standing in front of me, all in black stood at attention was tensing up more. I thought he'd get stuck like that. A stiff plank. He swallowed hard and i could feel his tension towards me build. A green fog ored around him. His ore was green. He looked down at me for i wasn't as tall as the adult he was.

"She was -murdered, Mr. Davis" He signed with relief once he finished and looked up passed me.

_Murdered. _

I looked around slowly still confused and left raw. I nodded without much comprehension and backed away from the man. I could not hear anymore.

"Mr. Davis? I need you to come with me," The man's voice was hard and give little comfort.

"Where? W-why?" I backed up more. Looking in his black eyes with war in mine.

I didn't want to go anywhere. Just stay here, home.

"Your mother has passed and there is no one else to take care of you. You have to come with me," He held his hand out, "Mr. Davis you are now property of the Federal Government."

_Property? Someone owned me in the first place? _

"No."

I backed up more and searched for the riling of the stairs. I was frantic, I wasn't going with him.

"Mr. Davis," He said stepping inside.

"NO!" I yelled as i turned and my feet began to shoot up the stairs.

_I can't do this._

Before i knew anything my feet were no longer in contact with the wooden stairs but instead my chest and face planned onto it. The pain i felt was nothing, _Fight or flight_ kicked in. Adrenaline was pumping through my blood and my heart felt like it was going to explode. My head turned quickly and the man in black had my foot, pulling me from the stairs. His grip was tight and he was obviously stronger than i. He had enough of me.

"Mr. Davis don't make this harder it needs to be! I _will_ taze you!" He shouted.

_Was that a threat? Was he threatening me? I think so._

I pulled up my free foot and threw it down onto the man's hand. Smashing his hand he let go of my foot and shouted in pain.

"God dammit! Mr. Heartly get in here and tame this damn kid!"

_Mr. Heartly? Who?_

At that moment i didn't know who he was but soon enough, i found out he'd be the man i'd hate most. The man i vowed to kill when i had the chance. A chance i prayed would come.

But at that moment i was clueless. I jumped over the man in black on the floor holding his hand in pain and ran straight out the door. I didn't know where i was going but i know i wasn't staying there. I couldn't, they'd take me. I had one foot out the door before i felt my body leave gravity's force and fly into a wall.

Aware of my head profuse pain and my body doll like statement i was dizzy and dazed. I only knew i was thrown back into the house, but by what?

The two men in black stood before me in closing on me choking me without laying a hand on me. Stealing my air from my environment. I panicked.

"LEAVE ME ALO-" I screamed but i did not finish.

A bright blue light flew at me and rammed into me. Becoming one with me. But it wasn't a beautiful moment, pain restricted me to curl into a ball and scream like a child. My body was hot and i shook uncontrollably. My sweat was ice cold when it surfaced to my skin. My vision started to distort and everything was gray like a static on a television. All the sounds collided into one and it sounded like sirens and dog whistles. I tasted metal and iron.

I was losing consciousness as my limbs felt heavy, ten times the original weight. My body still shook and i kept mumbling something.

_Mom save me. Please save me. _

Everything went black like the men's cloths and i slipped into an unconscious state, i couldn't tell you what i was thinking. I felt, saw, tasted, touched, heard was black.

-End

_Well that it until next Monday. Stayed tuned for next week as Roman Davis wakes and discovers his mother's life and even his own was a hug lie. But he finally gets closer than ever to finding his father while dealing with his mothers loss. All this and more next Monday, __**Chapter 2: Denial and Isolation**_

Also sorry for errors, new here. Don't be afraid to message me and give me ideas, help me or review me!


	2. Chapter 2 Denial and Isolation

Extended Fanfiction (Sherlock)

By: Colvin

January 12, 2015

**Disclosure**: I own nothing of the original characters or events from the original Sherlock BBC Television show.

Little Summary: When Roman Davis awakes in a strange room and is filled with mind wrecking information he is forced to recreate a new life. Thus starts the journey for his father, who may not even exist, or be alive. In the mean time he is placed with a man who will change his life forever.

**Chapter 2: Denial and Isolation**

When i woke, more like realized i was aware i was human, male, and a shit ton of trouble. I threw my head around in pain slowly. My stomach felt like potato mush and my brain was hit off my skull hundreds of times. I was so sore.

_Where am i? _

The room was so white my eyes watered. It was dull and i couldn't see any emotion in the paint. The floor was beek gray, it gave me sick feeling. The air was dry and very cold. Only wearing a light flannel and thin pants, goosebumps attacked my skin. It smelled of various of metal, cleaners and black coffee.

I just noticed i was in handcuffs. Handcuffed to a unwelcoming chair.

_What was going to happen to me?_

I looked down to think of possible ways to escape, but there wasn't much i could think of. Escaping handcuffs meant i had to break my wrist and i wasn't that desperate to leave.

The door opened and the two men in black that came and nearly killed me walked in alone with a women dressed nice, professional with touched up makeup followed. Her hair was chocolate brown with fakes curls, gray shinned off her when direct light hit. The smell of cigarettes and hair spray circled her. She used cheap lotions and perfumes to mask the smells she put off. I could smell her very well once she took a seat across from me. Locking her aged eyes on me. Looking back i saw she had seen _things_ correlating with her job and dealing with brat; me, was the piss in her cereal.

Her ore was orange.

"Mr. Davis, you caused my boys a lot of trouble to come get you this evening." She laid a cream file on the table and put her hands together, prayer style.

I sat there unresponsive.

"Do you understand why you are here tonight Mr. Davis?" She asked looking at me. Trying to break my guard.

I said nothing.

"Yesterday, your mother Marie Davis was found dead."

I swallowed hard nervously.

"We know it is your mother, Marie Irene Davis, 40, born April 6. Living currently at 238 North Winds Street. She has one child, you. Roman Sherrinford Davis, 17, born October 8. " She pulsed. "Your mother's co worker found her and identified her correctly."

_No._

"Mr. Davis, i know this must be hard. But i need your cooperation."

The room sat silent as all 3 of them stared at me. Killing me with stares. My heart was racing. Sweater gathered on my forehead.

"What do you want from me?"

Happy with my response she gave a fake smile and opened the file. Inside contained paperwork and a photo of my mother at the top. A photo i'd never seen before.

"Are you aware of your mother's real name is actually Irene Marie Adler?"

_What?_

I sat up and looked at her with confusion. Obviously i didn't know that.

"No."

"Well it is. And Mr. Davis your mother originates from the UK."

Surprisingly this didn't come to a surprise to me. My mothers heavy accent gave away she wasn't originally from the U.S. But when i asked, she often got upset.

"She came to the United States because back in the UK your mother was in trouble," She flipped through papers, "She did what we'd call _dirty work_, you're too young to understand what that is, she also treated to exposed the British parliament."

_My mother was a criminal?_

"Dirty work?" I asked.

"Mr. Davis, as i said, you are too young to understand." She was annoyed.

_What did that mean? My mother was bad enough criminal she moved to the United States and changed her name?_

This was too much. I felt light headed.

"Your mother changed her name to protect herself. Calling herself Marie Irene Davis. 3 months to her arrival to America she gave birth to you. Making you a U.S. citizen."

This was repetitive in some areas. My head was throbbing.

"It seems her past life of crimes finally caught up with her, ending in her death."

Her voice started to sound like drill. Continuous noise and deafening pain. I didn't want to hear anymore. It sounded like a dream. I wanted this to be a dream.

_Wake up._

"So-what happens to me?" My voice was breaking. I could cry right now.

"Well, we are investigating her murderer and we do plan to bring justice. In the mean time, since your mother has no relatives we are aware of, our only option is surrendering you the government and child services will place you with a foster home."

_Foster home. I was no orphan. _

"I don't want to go to a foster home." I demanded. The air was no longer coming to me.

"We don't have much of a choice Mr. Davis."

I began to panic. My life was falling apart in one day.

"I have a dad! Right? My d-dad. What about him?" It was a hopeless thought but so was i.

My mother hardly talked about my father. Just he was handsome man, tall, intelligent. Bringing her to her knees with a glance. I looked almost exactly like him. She told me she really loved him but too much caused them to never be happy together. It made sense now. Kinda. She was a criminal, being in a relationship was too much to risk. But she got pregnant and knew i had to be protected. I was the only thing she had to remind her of their love..

_Would my father know about my existence? _

They all looked at me with disappointment. Giving me sympathy.

"Mr. Davis i don't think you understand. Your father, we know nothing of. He could be dead as well. And if not he's probably in the UK. He could be anywhere. And he doesn't want to care for you it'd be a waste of time and money."

I sunk in my chair. It _was_ a stupid thought. I felt water rush to my eyes. I was going to cry. I put my head down and did my best to hold myself together.

"Please." I said barely looking at her.

"It's useless kid. Foster homes aren't so bad. You'll get the care you'll need." Mr. Heartly said getting mad at me. His ore blue, but i'm not sure if it was his real ore or just only color i seen.

"We'll need a DNA sample." Her voice softened.

"What? Clint! We don't have time for shit like this!" Mr. Heartly threw his hands up.

I looked up at her with tears in my eyes.

She wiped a tear from my eye, "Shutup Heartly. It can't hurt to run Mr. Davis's DNA through the system."

I felt a small smile form on my face.

…

The next day they ran all kinds of test on me. They'd taken blood, saliva, urine, hair, skin samples. By the end of it all i was tired and still sore.

Through all of this chaos. I'd still not register the events that'd happen. I couldn't cope nor was i ready. Just two days ago i was staying up late playing video games and blasting my favorite music, 80's. Staying in my room for days on end peeing bottles all in the name of video game testing. In day, some days, i'd go outside and walk around town and did what i wanted. My mother- mom and i spend a lot of time together and i lived a what i would call a normal life. My mom never showed any signs of being in trouble or any distressed from her past. I just did not understand how my life changed so quick. In a blink of an eye, my mom was dead, i'd broken a law officers hand, i was basically property of the state, (whatever that meant) and now i was on this hopeless journey to find my father. A father i may not want to know.

I tried to picture what he could look like, what he'd smell like and his ore. Also i thought of what he'd being doing with his life, where he was, why'd he never tired to find my mother. It was nothing but blue, and not the blue i saw on Mr. Heartly. That was sky, electric blue with a hint of white. This blue, it was, dark, cold, almost black. It gave me uneasy feeling. I feeling that made me want to know more. See more. I could only think highly of my father.

_Blue._

I sat back inside the same room as yesterday, dull, colorless and uncomforting. I waited. Unhand-cuffed.

I didn't have to wait long before Detective Clint, the women from yesterday and Mr. Heartly came in. Looking tired and sluggish.

"Now that we have the test done, we wait. Mr. Davis, this can take up 3 weeks for results to come back and even when they do it could take even longer for paperwork and start the living arrangements. Do you understand?"

_3 weeks? Where was i going to go for 3 weeks?_

"Yes. But where am i going to go for 3 weeks, -or longer?"

"Well," She looked at Mr. Heartly. "There's a option of a foster home," Panic shot through me. "JUST until the results get figured out. Or," I relaxed a bit. "You stay with Mr. Heartly."

_WHAT?_

"What! No!" I stood my ground.

"Mr. Davis, he's the only qualified agent we have here to care for someone your age." There was little remorse in her voice.

I looked at Mr. Heartly who was sipping on coffee, looking pissed off as always. When we matching eye contact he gave a cheesy; _I fucking hate you _smile. His teeth where yellow from coffee and cigarettes.

_He is going to kill me. _

With regret and sigh i said, "Fine."

…

The next day I was taken to my house to collect my things. I was going to be staying with Mr. Heartly until the DNA results came in. I wasn't look forward to this.

Upon returning to the house. It looked to be untouched. Inside was cold and empty, something i wasn't use to. Nothing was moved, only the paper my mother left me was on the ground. It read;

WENT OUT. BE GOOD.

-LOVE MOM.

I bent down and held the paper in my hands reading over and over hoping to uncover some sort of code, a message to where she was. She just couldn't be dead. I saw nothing but her beautiful handwriting. Reality just kept punching me in the face.

"Hurry up and get your shit together," Mr. Heartly growled.

I slowly went up stairs reliving every memories of this house. When we first moved here from a small apartment across town. I was eight and unsure if i was okay with this new big house. But mom held me in her arms the nights the house was too big for me to handle. I relived the Christmases we shared, birthdays and other holidays and special occasions we had. I relived every moment of my life i witnessed, to now only see it as a lie. The freedom i had, my mother imprisonment to keep my safely and make sure we could live another day. I saw it clearly now. My days were number smaller than i ever thought hers was.

_I miss her. _

I got to the top of the stairs and waited to see if her come out her bedroom looking youthful and radiant.

_She's not coming._

Walking pasted her room i opened the door, the bed was still made and the room was spotless. No sign of foul play. I stepped out and hesitantly closed the door. I entered my room. It was dirty, as always, Cloths laid everywhere as did my CDs, and shoes. It smelled of my clone and sweat. My man cave. It was dark and my tv was on but only showed a gray screen. I was playing my XBOX before they came and got me.

I found my backpack and began to stuff cloths in it, dirty or not. I pulled some from the floor, my bed and dresser. I threw everything i thought i'd need carelessly.

My ipod. That thing was my life. It had all the music i listened to. I survived on this.

_Where is it? _

I tossed cloths and video game cases before i found it laying under my blue scarf.

_Blue Scarf. _

I picked it up and rubbed the fabric and remembered when my mother gave it to me. I was eleven and i was old enough to question my mom endlessly about my father. It was a key point in my life to have a father. I was growing and would need a man guidance. To get me to shut up she dug through her closet and pulled out this blue scarf. It was made of rich fabric and nearly felt like silk. Dragged ends. It smelled of lemon and cigarette smoke. She told me the story of how she lived with him for a bit with his friend and on her last day before she left, he gave her this scarf. I could tell it was hard for my mother to give that up to a destructive boy who really hasn't understood the true value of objects. But i surprised her. I hung it up above my bed for two years until i was old enough to pull off a scarf. I wore it everyday and everywhere.

"S.S.H" I whispered to myself. As i ran my fingers over the knitted initials. My father's initials.

_S.S.H_

"Hurry up!" I heard Mr. Heartly call.

I scrounged around to collect the rest of my stuff. After, i ran down the stairs and stood in front of Mr. Heartly. Nervously.

"Ready now?" There was a trace of anger in his voice.

I nodded as i looked around uncomfortably. "What will happen to this rest of this stuff?"

He sighed and shrugged, "I don't know, storage, sale, up for auction?"

"I don't want my stuff sold, or my moms" I protested.

"That's not up for me to decide kid."

_All of my stuff my mom's stuff. Sold? No._

He placed a hand on my back and pushed me out the door. Before i was completely out the door i manage to grab a picture of my mother and i together, taken to a couple months ago. I stuffed it in my backpack and headed to the car.

...

The drive was taking forever. I was getting antsy. I hate being in a car for too long. There was no noises, no music, no conversation, no emotion. I was going to go crazy.

"Let's get a couple things straight," Mr. Heartly said breaking the silence, "There are some set rules you _will _follow. You _will_ listen to me, and obey me," I felt he was yelling at me, but his voice was low and calm. He wasn't looking at me but i could swear his eyes were raping my soul. "You will not make a mess of my house or yourself. I'm not going to babysit you. You will be responsible for some chores. Do you understand?"

_So nothing i haven't been exposed to before. _

I nodded to show i understood.

…

Pulling into the house it was small. One story. A upgraded style and a small front yard. The garage was small like the house and the huge red Ford truck barely fit inside it. I tumbled out of the car and my legs were like jelly. Mr. Heartly followed steadily behind me to unlock the door. When we stepped inside, we were in the kitchen. it was small but modern. Spices of all kinds hung on a shelf above the stove and a bar laid in the left corner of the kitchen covered in different kinds of alcoholic drinks. It was silver and black, everything matched. Moving on the living room. Small, yet movable. A huge tv hung over a fake fireplace. The couch was black leather and a coffee table in the middle with a old newspaper laying on.

He pulled me to the left into a small bedroom. It bad a twin bed with cream sheets on it. Everything was cream. I was blinded by the dull color before me.

"This is your room. I want it looking like this every morning when you wake up. I expect no less. Theres a bathroom right there," He pointed at a door, "keep it clean as well."

He backed away and stood at the doorway. Staring at me.

"Dinner at 6."

He closed the door and walked away.

But that evening i did not join him for diner. I stayed in my room. Basting my music through my headphones. Ozzy Osbourne voice was the that soothed me from the rushing tears that poured out of me.

_Mama, i'm coming home._

For three days i stayed in my room. Barely ate or slept. I had no contact with the outside world. I isolated myself. I was in denial.

_Mom, save me. You can't be dead._

_Well that's it for this week. Like it? Let me know! Sorry for errors, just me, myself and my dyslexia editing. _

_Stay tuned in for next week, __**Chapter 3: Anger and Bargaining. **__Roman and Mr. Heartly still not getting along. Fighting and coping. _


	3. Chapter 3 Anger and Bargaining

Extended Fanfiction (Sherlock)

By: Colvin

January 19, 2015

**Disclosure**: I own nothing of the original characters or events from the original Sherlock BBC Television show. Also, information on characters and their relationships with each other may differ with time, even their life span. I'm only writing from the data provided to me from season 1 - season 3.

_Little Summary: Roman and Mr. Heartly are still butting heads. Roman anger is uncontrollable. His attempts to bargain is shot down quickly. _

**Chapter 3: Anger and Bargaining**

"What do you mean i can't go to my own mothers funeral?!" I shouted at Mr. Heartly.

He sat there, right there. So calm, so teasingly, he mocked my efforts at debate.

"We haven't caught the person(s) who killed your mother, and to go to her funeral would only put you at danger, and myself. I can't have that."

"I don't care!"

"Mr. Davis!" He barked, "Shut the fuck up! I said no!"

Anger rose inside me. Like lava inside a volcano. It was going to burst, with lava gushing from my mouth. Words. They were my lava.

I couldn't allow this. He couldn't control me like this. The respectful thing to do would be to go to the funeral no matter the danger. I couldn't remember the last time i was this mad. This pissed, filled with uncontrollable anger. That fiery filling that forms somewhere deep inside you that makes her heart double in beats within seconds. That's how i felt.

I stood up from my seat at the kitchen.

"I'm going, whether you like it or not. I'll walk if i have to!" My voice started a whisper and by the end i was shouting again.

Bad idea.

Mr. Hearlty shot up, before i had a chance to move back he grabbed my shirt pulling me close to him. I could smell the stale cigarette smoke and the rich coffee bean oder seep out his mouth.

His eyes were ravenous. Filling with hate and misunderstanding.

Just like mine.

"Listen here, kid. I'm in fucking charge here, you listen to ME. I don't listen to you. You are not going and that's final. Now shut up before i drive my fist through your teeth!"

He stared at me to see i got the message. I did.

I stormed inside my room, slamming the door. The sound echoed all throughout the house mercilessly. That's only a smug of the anger i had inside me.

_This is so unfair._

I locked my door. I stood there while the fire took control of my body, i was seeing doubles. Sweating, panting, shaking. I wasn't in control anymore, i couldn't have been. I kicked the walls, pulling a small hole the size of a nickle in the paint. I punched my bed. My body flew all over the room destroying it around me. My bed was nice and neat like Mr. Heartly made sure. No more. I ripped the covers off and the sheets in blinding rage. My cloths soared into the ceiling fan, making a tearing sounds as the made contact with the swinging blades. I was losing it, completely utterly losing it. I looked like a child that didn't get his/her way and i didn't. I began to scream and cry into the space that suffocated me. I grabbed my hair, hand fulls, i pulled it dragging myself against a wall. By that time, i was making gibberish and faint screams as tears fell onto the floor. I folded over supporting myself against the wall, balling, whaling like a baby. My brain was expanding, pressing, pulsing inside my skull.

This was too much for me.

I was so angry at Mr. Heartly for being such an ass about everything. Not understanding, not remorsing for me, not giving sympathy. An insensitive prick. I was angry at the law office for taking so to get my results back. I wanted out of here. Everyday i dreaded to wake up to fight to see tomorrow. I didn't want to see it, i was done. I was so pissed at my mother. Pissed for her being dead. Pissed i never got to say goodbye and i never will thanks to Mr. Heartly. I could never forgive her, or myself. I needed to go that funeral. I was compelled to say good-bye. She's my mom.

If only i'd known.

"Shut up you bastard!" Mr. Heartly pounded on the door.

I'd never experienced a rage quite like this. I was scared of myself. Scared of what i might do to if wouldn't calm down.

I shakenly put my headphones on blasting the heaviest music i had on my Ipod. Letting my music calm me yet help bottle my pain up. Bottling it up seemed to be the option i had where i was. No one to talk to. I was alone in this.

So alone.

**...**

For almost week straight i had randomly breakdown of emotions and anger. Emotional and mental break downs. I couldn't recall what led up to them or how i came down from them. I assumed i just blacked out.

Sometimes, Mr. Heatly had to hold me down, put me in handcuff , tie me down in a chair in the garage for maybe five hours when i got too crazy, when i'd threaten his life or even mine. Or when i tried to hit him. That was never a good idea. Beginning blinded with anger i took the swing anyway.

At another point, Mr. Heartly and i got into it pretty bad, often too. I can't remember it. The last thing i normally remember is him screaming at me to _get over it_. He always told me to _"get over it"_. That'd piss me off more than anything. The fight ended in a black eye for me and a busted lip for him. I couldn't remember what we would fight about but i remember it hurt. I lost every time. But, i wasn't going to stop trying to kick his hollowed out ass.

...

I sat at the kitchen table waiting on dinner in deep contemplation. Thinking about my mother and this new life i'm forced to live. I wondered if there was anything i could have done to keep my mother alive. To keep her safe. I would have gave her my life so she could live. That'd do no good. I'd save her for the moment, by the all of it all she was going to die, there was no way to escape it. I couldn't understand that, so i questioned it.

"Do you think i could have done anything to stop me mother from being murdered?" That seemed like the most i've said since i've arrived here.

"No."

_No?_

I looked at him with confusion as he just shrugged and gave a "_what the fuck else do you want me to say_?" death stare.

I nodded as i had no choice but to accept his answer.

"How long have i been here?"

He looked at me like i had gone fully retarded, "2 week's."

_2 weeks._

I sighed.

I still had a lot of questions about my mother and her past life. Every time i asked Mr. Heartly he got annoyed and cursed at me. He told me not to worry about it, it was none of my business. His idea of helping me cope only drove me into a spiral madness. I had questions that _needed_ answers, Mr. Heartly was a week source. I had no connection to the internet nor to the outside world. Damn man was too old fashion. And he wasn't more then maybe ten years older than my mother. The evening news is what he watched. Nothing of my mother and it's interest appeared on the television. Dammit.

-End.

_**Chapter 4: Depression and Acceptance. **__Roman is hitting rock bottom with grief. He's alone, confused and completely lost. Also, his results are in! Stay tuned! :3 _

_About the story, i know it's not exciting or the normal Sherlock fan fiction but you need to understand if i was vocabulary enhanced enough and could think like Sherlock or even John that's what i'd be writing. I'm __**huge**__ fan of Smut (sexualness) between them, it's all i read. Aigh, i am only a high school student with limits on my knowledge so have remorse, please? Thanks!_


	4. Chapter 4 Depression and Acceptance

Extended Fanfiction (Sherlock)

By: Colvin

January 19, 2015

**Disclosure**: I own nothing of the original characters or events from the original Sherlock BBC Television show. Also, information on characters and their relationships with each other may differ with time, even their life span. I'm only writing from the data provided to me from season 1 - season 3.

_I decided to post another chapter. Just to see if you really like it. PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU DO! _

_Little Summary: Roman is deep in grievance and just can't keep himself together. Mr. Heartly is still not helping, making everything worse actually. He feels so lost and alone. But, he hears back from the agency! _

**Chapter 4: Depression and Acceptance**

4:32pm. That's what my Ipod clock read. I hadn't gotten out of bed all day, nor did i have it planned to get up. I laid in my own 3 day fifth, no shower. I was depressed and i knew it. It hit me so hard my chest nearly ripped in two. I cried every moment i could remember, the internal pain was too much. My eye were constantly red, swollen. I become unresponsive, It'd be maybe four days since i spoke a word. I was starting to forget my own voice. When i ate i threw it up.

I appeared to be a heroin addict in rehab.

**Depression**

Every Night, well nights i slept, i dreamt of past memories and my mother. He haunted my dreams. She was in a pink cotton blended dress, a fifty's look, with her hair down, those rich dark chocolate brown curls bounced off her shoulders. Bright red lipstick she wore for as long as i could remember. She was screaming my name. Screaming for me to help her, to save her. I woke up screaming and crying uncontrollably. No one there to comfort me. No mothers arms to hold me softly and sing me a lullaby. I just put my head in my hands cried until i fell asleep again, if i did.

I was a mess, yes.

Mr. Heartly yelled at me often. I didn't clean much anymore nor did i take care of myself. Two of his rules i broke carelessly. I hardly showered, changed my clothes and my room stayed dirty, starting to smell like my room back at home.

I found a way to cope. A way i'd never thought i'd see myself. The pain hurt almost equal to the pain i felt on the inside. A slow, agonizing pain. No relief like i'd found in my cope. Each i went deeper, tested myself and my body. Tested the pain.

"Where did this come from?" He grabbed my wrist looking at it.

I shrugged.

"Did you do this Roman?" He roughly grabbed my chin as i went to look away, "You did," He pulsed squinting his eyes at me.

It seemed like we were standing forever before he spoke again.

"I'm going to have to call the Psychiatric Treatment Center."

"NO!"

"You are hurting yourself! Over nothing! You are a danger to yourself!"

Screaming. This wasn't helping all we were doing was screaming.

"I'm coping!"

_I couldn't be sent away. _

"People don't cope like that. You are doing it for attention."

"I'm experimenting."

I don't know what inside me told me it was okay to say that but it was too late to take it back. I'd never said anything so dumb, so unconnecting before.

Experimenting? What was i experimenting? How deep i could take a blade across my wrist before i bleed out an exceptional amount of blood, may enough to kill myself? What am i thinking. Self modulation for recovery.

Of course he'd bought it. Dumb ass.

"Well if i see anymore, i'll calling them. Find other ways to cope and experiment Mr. Davis."

_Davis._

To be called Davis anymore didn't sound right. It felt wrong. Adler was my last name. Not Davis. It sounded better anyways.

_For now on, i'm going to be Adler. Roman Adler._

When i looked into the mirror i saw very little of my mother. I couldn't find her in me anymore. Tired, worn down, malnourished and slowly losing it i lost her inside of me. I was starting to see more of a man i didn't know. A man i'd never met. A man who mocked me when i saw him. I could not grasp a full picture of what he looked like without my own image getting the way. I could not look in the mirror without seeing it, so i quite looking. I put a blanket over the bathroom mirror. When i did that i started to dream of my imagined father more. He was tall, his structure over powered me. Choking me with his deep midnight blue and black ore. Of course it was midnight blue, that's the only time i really saw him, at night. His voice was deep and quick to words. The right words. A pitch, an octave of his voice i can't remember when i woke up. He moved swiftly from each end of my dreams. His image destroyed everything i had inside me.

…

It's not like i just woke up one day and everything was okay. Because it wasn't like that. Sure, i did wake up one day feeling different from all the other days. I felt like everything was going to be okay. I was going to make it.

The nightmares of my mother death stopped almost completely. The dreams, i can't quite call them nightmares of my father became less nerve wracking and more of a hint. A puzzle of the man. I slept for long periods of time without waking up scared.

I felt i was maybe, somehow going to make it.

_Acceptance._

I hopped into the shower washing 3 weeks of pure hell from my body as well as my mind too. I felt reborn, and very clean. I shaved for the first in 3 weeks. I looked like a french guy who turned into a mountain man one day. I never knew i could grow that much facial hair. I put on my cleanest clothes, leaving my room. I'd seen the house many times i could walk through it without hitting anything but this time, it seemed like the very first time. My blue eyes fresh to the scene.

"The results came in," Mr. Heartly was leaning against the stove holding his cell phone.

I looked at him nervous. As he stood emotionless. "Your father is alive, and well."

_He's real. He's alive._

A sigh of relief pour out of me, completely involuntary.

"When do i meet him?"

"It's not that simple. There is still some paperwork to be done. Yes, but his acknowledgement of your existence unknown. "

_What did that mean?_

"Oh?" I said confused.

"Instead, his brother has offered to care for you until your fathers appearance is known."

I smiled slightly. This was really happening.

"You should be kissing his ass, if it wasn't for him working so deep into the parliament they may have never found your dad."

_Dad._

Energy formed inside me. "When do i leave?"

"A week."

_Seven days._

"Where will i be living?"

"England."

_England. The UK. _

I couldn't not smile. I walked away almost wanting to run. I was finally out of here, this hell hole. This was seriously happening.

-End.

_Well things are starting to look up aren't they? Next Monday, __**Chapter 5: The Memory and the Start Over. **__Roman is days away from leaving, he going to the UK BABY! But Mr. Heartly doesn't plan to let him leave with a experience he'll NEVER forget, it'd shape him for the rest of his life. Viewers desecration is advised! :D_

_About the story, i know it's not exciting or the normal Sherlock fan fiction but you need to understand if i was vocabulary enhanced enough and could think like Sherlock or even John that's what i'd be writing. I'm __**huge**__fan of Smut (sexualness) between them, it's all i read. Aigh, i am only a high school student with limits on my knowledge so have remorse, please? Thanks!_


	5. Chapter 5 The Memory and The Start Over

Extended Fanfiction (Sherlock)

By: Colvin

January 26, 2015

**Disclosure**: I own nothing of the original characters or events from the original Sherlock BBC Television show. Also, information on characters and their relationships with each other may differ with time, even their life span. I'm only writing from the data provided to me from season 1 - season 3.

_Little Summary: Roman is due to leave for the UK tomorrow. Mr. Heartly plans to break, no shatter Roman before his departure. On the other hand, he finally meet Mycroft and is semi introduced to his life style. _

_Fair warming: This chapter is very explicit. __**Non-Con. **__If it's not your cup of tea please, don't read. I've written __**STOP**__ and __**GO **__to indicate where you stop and start reading again. Viewers desecration is advised. _

**Chapter 5: The Memory and the Start Over. **

Tomorrow i was on my way to the UK. My new life was going to be in a new country. Talk about starting over, completely. Leaving a country i grew up in, filled with culture, slime, greet, and poverty for a country of cultural values i was not unaware of. Of course in school i learned the style of the eighth and nineteenth century but after that, i was clueless.

Over flowing with excitement i hardly slept as my countdown got smaller. I had more questions than thoughts. No one could answer them, i knew that. I had to find the answers myself. I learned this from the beginning of this all.

I sat on my bed nibbling on some chips playing some Aerosmith. I was lost in thought of what maybe become of my new life. I covered myself in a blanket and looked out the window into a black night.

_**STOP.**_

My headphone were blasting some impactful music yet, i still heard the noise from the other side of my door. Removing my headphones, i cautiously blundered off my bed and headed towards the door. Before i knew it my door swung open and Mr. Heartly stood with barely any posture. It was more of a silhouette than the actual figure of him. But i could smell he was drunk. Plastered drunk. He wasn't even close enough to know for sure.

His posture and voice bluntly gave that away.

"Come here," he said holding himself up against my door way.

I had no time to react. He charged at me and grabbed my arms, pulling them above my head, pushing me backwards to my bed. He slammed me down and placed his hands around my throat.

_He was trying to kill me._

I clawed his arms frantically as he applied pressure to my neck. My airway was being cut off. I panicked dementally which made it worse. I couldn't breathe.

Then he removed his hands moving to grab my pants, trying to pull them down.

"NO!" I screamed.

Struggling against him, from the corner of my eye he drew his fist. I threw my hands up over my face just in time for him to punch me, slurringly. Luckily, My hands absorbed most of the impact but my nose felt some of it. I think it started bleeding.

Dazed with high levels of stress and pain, Mr. Heartly grabbed my arms again and flipped me to my stomach. I fought back the best i could my legs kicking in revolt. However, they only bruised again the bed-board siding. I felt his hand shoot up threw my hair, pulling it back only shoving my head down into the bed. Oh god. His other hand slid down to my rim of my pants as he jerked them down exposing me, effortlessly, humiliating me. I screamed out but the mattress absorbed my cries. They became loud mumbles. I was completely helpless. I threw my arms around carelessly, to grab anything to free myself of this, this, murder. But alone sheets and blankets came into into my hands. I felt i was being drug away by the boogeyman because he grabbed my waist and slung me over his shoulder so weightlessly. I was nothing but a bag of trash compared to his drunken strength.

_This wasn't happening. _

"Stop squirming!" Mr. Heartly ordered.

I could not comply, "Put me down!" I continued to brawl. I hit him in the back several times with my weak fist. It was nothing in contrast to what he could do.

I had no idea where he was taking me and before i had a chance to register we were evening leaving a room, i was already being thrown onto another bed. A bed that wasn't mine for the comforter smelt like smoke and sweat. My eyes shot side to side taking in so much sensory information my brain was throbbing. Bedding that smelt like smoke and sweat, the room was small, with nothing on the walls but the head of a doe at the farthest right corner, bare walls. A dresser to the left with a handgun laying on top of it. Even though i wasn't anywhere near close enough to get it i compulsively reached for it. I was so scared.

While my hopeless arm reached out, Mr. Heartly grabbed it. He grabbed my other arm and pulled them together. I perceived hard, discomforting, cold metal hit them nonchalantly. They were handcuffs.

_No, fuck no._

I was laying on my back, almost in fetal position as he grabbed the trim of my boxer, my pants must have slid off. He began to yank them down, off me completely.

_No! Fuck no!_

I began to struggle again. I was over acting, i was going to pass out. Too much energy and adrenaline was pulsing through my body.

This was too much.

He got on top of me, forcefully spreading my slender legs apart, making a place between them for himself. Expanding me on levels i wasn't okay with. His body, three of me, hovered over me staring at me with drunk eyes. I couldn't see it, but i sensed it.

"You ungrateful brat, i sheltered you, clothed you, and fed you!"

I cringed at his words. I wanted to ball up. I've never been so scared.

He snatched my hand cuffed wrist and flung them above my head. Holding them in place there.

With his other hand, he traveled down south, his rubbed against the back of my thighs. His finger entered me. It was rough, dry and displeasurable. I'd was in shock all i could do is scream. The pain made me scream, "S-stop!" his finger began to thrust inside me. I tried to move away, it was a worthless effort all I felt pain. Pain. I didn't want this. Oh god, i didn't. Please make it stop.

I could feel him breathing down my neck. He continued to move inside me. Moving at a quickening pace.

"Shut the fuck up! I going to fucking punish you for all the trouble you've caused me, bitch!" His voice was overly threatening. His teeth clenched together with each word spoken.

_No. Please no._

He retreated his finger. Relief. His finger was no longer inside but pain still jolted. Was it over? I began to struggle once again to get free. I probably looked like a defenseless worn. I didn't care. I was horrified to see what would happen next.

I heard his belt cling around and a zipper go down. I tried to hold my head up to see what he was doing but i was too weak. Suddenly, Feeling a warm sold figure brush again me. I toiled desperately, nearly getting away from his grip before he positioned, then shoved himself inside me.

_Oh fuck._

At that moment, that very moment the room was silent, spinning and ringing, unbearable flamboyant ringing, endless ringing was all i heard. It sounded like what you'd hear after an explosion or gunfire. My ear drums were shaking with the sound. The involuntary movement of air flow was destroyed. The lungs buried inside me cramped in pain, begging for the air to start. But, my mouth was left open with nothing going in or out of it. I threw my head up and my eyes widen before they could pop out of my head. I was blind. My vision black. I clenched my hands as tight as i could before i could feel my own nails dig into my palms. The insufferable pain was ripping me in two. I still couldn't breathe. I was not making any noise but the uncontrollable high pitch air squeaks. The torture, the feeling was all i could focus on.

He began to thrust in and out of me gradually. The agony remained, it got worse with every thrust.

This was too much.

_Kill me, please! _

"Relax!" He said in my ear. He nibbled on it.

When my body made the crucial decision it was necessary to breathe or die here in such shame, the air piled into me all at once. I was drowning in oxygen. I gasped several time, relearning how to breathe again, like a new born. My lungs inhaled and exhaled too quick for me to catch up. I just kept gasping. On the other hand, my body had given completely up on rebuking him. His thrust then began to get deeper inside me. i wanted to scream with every inch in me but sadly, no sounds came out of me just quite whines and sobs. I prided my eye shut.

"You ungrateful, -intolerable, -u -undispersed bastard! I've fucking put, put up with you for far too l-long now!" His breathing was labored.

"It-it hurts!" words formed on their own and they spoke on their own, "I'm sorry!"

"You're going to be sorry!"

He mercilessly sunk his gritty, yellow teeth in my side as his thrust became unforgivable. All of this was unforgivable. The crushing pain of his teeth in my ribs made my torso spontaneous lift up, only making the biting worse.

"Ahh!" The moan at the misery, whining in such shame.

His hand wrapped around my hip. He forced himself as deep as he could inside me. Thrusting in a motion i could feel his direct body, just a heating wave. I could no longer move. At all. He was so deep, filling me up. I laid there, hurting. Crying.

_I'm crying._

Tears on top of tears ran down the sides of my cheek when i open my eyes only for a brief second. All the water build up was starting to burn. All i saw a black shadow, racing. Out of all the pain i was in i could still be the burn in my eyes. I just wanted this to end. Please let this end. I can't struggle anymore. My body, too tired and too used hardly supported against him anymore.

"Ahh- i'm going to.. !" He hushed out from something inside him.

_Oh god please no, shit. Fuck._

In a last panic induced battle i tried to pull myself forward to get away but he only slammed into me harder and dug his nails into my hip. Soon, a warm sensation was brimming me up. It burned, it was so hot. I couldn't believe what just happened.

His detached himself away from me. Rolling off of me to the left. "Damn!" He said gathered himself.

Laying there in the mess, the mess he created out me. I shook and stared into a darkness. My eyes watered incredibly, my vision displayed errored. I was terrified to move. I was even more scared that i wouldn't be able to move. It still hurt. Curiously, my eyes slightly angled towards him. He was out cold. I couldn't be sure though, my eyes filled with tears. I stayed froze.

I knew i had to get out here before he woke up again but i wasn't sure i could even walk. But by god, i was going to try. I used my stomach muscles, (which was still impaired from him biting me) to pull me into a sitting position. No pain, just discomfort. Now to stand. I felt my toes drive across the carpet. I could still feel my toes, good. I set both my feet firmly on the floor and pushed myself up with strength i hadn't known existed. I was standing, like a toddler, relearning how to walk. I put my right foot out and took a step. My legs were jello, i fell from under them. The pain was resurfacing.

_Keep going Roman. Please._

I lifted myself back up once more and tried the process all over again. I fell against the floor frame. I had little strength to hold me up. I kept going. Crashing into the walls, looking back frantically to see if Mr. Hearty had wakened. Giving me the feeling it was taking longer than usual i accelerated myself.

I was finally back in my room. I couldn't believe i was able to find it in this darkness.

Locking the door behind me, I hustled to reach my bed. The tournament returned completely, fully. I cringed in pain as i now limped to my bed, my left leg was finished. I reached the side of my bed. It set up higher than i remembered, but then again i never really payed attention. How was i going to get up there?

My right leg gave out abruptly. I disassembled to the floor. On my way down i manage to grab handfuls of blankets, they toppled down onto like rain from the sky. There i laid on the floor, centimeters from my bed, in agonizing pain, balling like little boy. My mind reseeded like one. I'm not sure what i was thinking about. I knew i was thinking, because my subconscious voice whispered. Yet, i could not hear it or see it like i normally could. Noncomperhenial. Seeing nothing but watery black i felt something strange come over me. Something i'd found unnerving and quite sinistering. I had never felt like this before, and i'd never feel another thing after.

My heart rate decreased altogether, also like normal and my muscles composed. Kinda like a morning frost that'd last for evermore, eternally feeling the kiss of a balmy, heated summer sun for the first time. The tears stopped. I was now apart of the my eternal and external surroundings. I was silent, as the sounds my area sung dull like the paint on my walls and the sheets i was swaddled in. I was so calm, empty, harmonious, so vacant. My spirit was leaving my body. It felt like the color, the iris in my eye completely disappeared it was nothing but pupil. Hollow eyes. Everything was dark, my eye consumed the blackness that smuggled me. Maybe i was dying, no. I was, I felt- numb. I was- numb.

_So. Numbness. I am numb._

A quick thought popped in front of me before i could think, hear, see, feel no more;

"_I wonder if that handgun, was loaded."_

_**OKAY, GO.**_

…

Today, was the day i was set to leave. I had all my stuff packed, it took me an hour longer to get everything together for the terminal pain imprisoned me. I sat on my bed, silently. Waiting. I still had the handcuffs and the sweater on from the other night.

"Come one. Time to go." Mr. Heartly stood at my doorway smoking a cigarette.

I did not move. I did not look at him. I kept my hand down and my wrist twitched making the handcuffs jiggle.

"Oh yeah." I could hear his foot steps come near me.

_Shit._

He was basically on top of me. I saw the smoke curl under my hair, into my nose. It stunk so bad. Pure nicotine. He reached forward to get the handcuffs but i jumped back, i wasn't sure what'd he do. He seemed upset by my actions, so he forcefully grabbed the chain of the cuffs. Pulling me off my bed and into my feet.

"Don't touch me!" I yelped as i tried to pull away.

I don't know what his reaction was because i wasn't looking at him, but his body language seemed to be taken back. He left go of the handcuffs.

"Fine, keep them on. You look better in them anyways."

_That smug creep. Fucking pedophile. You will pay, i promise._

Walking, more like limping to the huge red Ford truck parked in the garage way too small for it's size, i barely got in it. The handcuff played a major role in my availability along with my pain that shot up my back and down my legs. I took a last glance at the place i was forced to stay for almost over a month. I didn't want to remember any of this but i knew i would, it'd haunt me until i die. The memories here that i created i'd remember clearer than i'd remember tomorrow's yesterday.

I didn't feel the pain of emotions anymore. I figured that out. My mother was dead. That was it. I'd be sexually molested, no raped by a forty some low life fuck. There was no sugar coating it. I knew what had happened. And i was going to be leaving the country to go on a hunt for a man i may not want to know. This was my reality. Shitty was it is, it was. Great cards i was dealt. Just peachy.

The drive of course was silent. No emotion from either side.

Just recurring memories.

I couldn't believe this man utterly, completely destroyed me. Numbed me. He took my safety, vulnerability, innocence and tore it to sheds. I lost my, what some less lovers called "_virginity_" to this man. I wanted to hate him, that burning and tingling sensations in my stomach that normally was there for him should be there, just wasn't there. I felt nothing.

He won.

I gave a quick glance at this demon. Tall, not in exactly "in" shape, enough to have the job he did. Thin red hair with facial hair to match wrapping around his mouth. His teeth were yellow and his skin was oily. I made the mental image of him so i wouldn't forget him, i knew i didn't have to but i was compelled to. He'd pay for his crossing of me.

…

The airport was huge. I'd never been in one so this was a new for me. I got distracted often glazing at the different cultured people that stood around waiting on loved ones or rushed to their flights. So many ore of pinks, reds, blues, oranges, greens, purples, silver and even gold. Information of my sense flooded my brain. I never realized how much i forced on things until now. It made my brain jump. I felt over loaded.

"Hurry up!" Mr. Hearly said as he grabbed the fabric of my sweater and pulled me out of the way of rushing people. I _still _had the handcuffs, clear in public sight.

_Don't touch me._

We shoved impolitely pass numbers of face, faces i'd already forgotten. Colors i didn't know existed and smells i'd want to live to smell again. It was such a rush. School didn't even give a rush like this, it was just clean air and perfumed plastic kids. This was a noticing high.

Everything came to a complete untold stop, i crashed into Mr. Heartly. He gave me a dirty look and pulled me in front of him. Disoriented my eyes sponged in their sockets. Taking in my current reality.

"Mr. Heartly, just on time." A voice spoke. It was crisp. Filled with a accent i wasn't use to, English accent. It sounded well practiced and like every word he spoke was deja vu.

"Yes," Mr. Heartly held a hand out past me. He shook hands with the tall man. He was even taller than Mr. Heartly.

"And i assume this is Mr. Davis?" I looked up at him.

He leaned against a black umbria and wore an expensive gray, a dollar for every stitch suit, with a silver, blue pattern tie. His hair was well cut, dark mocha brown and a hint of curl peeked out at the top. He had a clean shave. Perfection. No, Impeccable. His build was bulky with a bit of flab in the mid area. Trying to lose weight, i could tell. Maybe not so Impeccable, more like overly acceptable. He looked like a very important person. The way him and Mr. Heartly were dressed i felt left out only wearing some tight gray jeans i found under my bed and the light blue sweater from the a day back, a black button up shirt collar and cuff popping out the ends. I felt well dressed until these two came into the picture.

"Adler." I said. It felt uncalled for but it was too late to take it back.

"Hmm. Yes, by nature you are neither," The man said graining.

Unsure of what he meant i kept my mouth shut.

"My name is Mycroft Holmes. Call me Mycroft. Please," he held his hand out with a fake smile wrapping around his large face. Ear to ear, almost unsettling.

His ore was a carverious silver. Almost like the color of his tie but this silver was more concentrated.

_Holmes._

So that was my father's last name. _Holmes. _It sounded so rare, yet like i've heard it my whole life. It didn't surprise me. I was emotionally incoherent.

"When do i get to meet my father." I demanded rather than asked.

Mycroft laughed softly as he placed a hand on my shoulder feathery. Looking into my eyes he wasn't even close to my level, he was so colossal like, but i noticed his blue eyes that nearly patched mine.

"Soon. My," He looked to be seeing star, "how you greatly resemble my younger brother in his youth. You already have the appearance now the personality is very blatant. Lets hope that doesn't get you into aggro."

I blinked at him several times.

_What? _

"Mr. Holmes, i must be going. I have to go to work. We will contact you in a couple weeks to check on Mr. Davis and his progress."

"Alder," I shunned him.

He pushed me towards Mycroft and muffled under his breath.

_Stop touching me, damn._

"Thank you Mr. Heartly. He's in good hands. What about the hand restraints?"

I think Mr. Heartly and i both forgot they were still on me, we looked confused at first then it set in. Oh yeah. I held my wrist out quite a distance from my body.

Mr. Heartly seemed to laugh nervously, that's the most emotion that i'd seen him in. He looked almost human, gross. "Oh yeah. It's part of the procedure."

The handcuff were gone, exposing deep, questionably bruises. I did not lower my wrist until Heartly shoved them down.

I hope Mycroft saw.

"You have six months for his father to claim custody, if you fail to get the paperwork to us before said date we will forced to take Mr. Davis back to the states and placed into a foster home until he's an adult."

"Don't you worry Mr. Heartly. Cheers."

And just liked that Mr. Heartly turned and walked away with his hands in his pocket and head down. He did not look back. I want him too, just to flip him off. Give him some hint, that i was coming for him.

"Now, Mr. Alder? Was it? Are you ready to go? We are borrowed time."

I nodded.

A man all in black, just like the man whose hand i broke from trying to force me to leave my home appeared from almost no where. He was young and had a deep cut and muscular built. Zero emotion on his face, just like me.

"Are you ready to go Mr. Holmes?"

"Yes. I think Mr. Adler and i are set." He smiled at me.

"I'll fire up the jet."

_Jet? What? _

Mycroft nodded. I followed his hand to only see it placed on my back. He gave me a little push and we were on our way.

"Are you excited to see England?"

I nodded.

I was on my way to see my new life. My new start over. It involved a rather terrible past, a long battle i fought to get here, a tall middle aged man i didn't trust, a huge jet and a even larger country waiting on my arrival.

-End.

_Next Monday join me in __**Chapter 6: The Information and The Life Style. **__On his way to England Roman decided to barterer Mycroft with questions about his mother and father. He receives answers he wasn't expecting! You also get a glimpse Roman's new home, much better than before. Finally, some new characters come into play! All this and more! _

_I hope you made it through alive! This chapter was very emotional to write. I hope i did okay. I'm sorry guys, this is a crucial part in this story. A complete game changer for Roman as you can see! _

_About the story, i know it's not exciting or the normal Sherlock fan fiction but you need to understand if i was vocabulary enhanced enough and could think like Sherlock or even John that's what i'd be writing. I'm __**huge**__fan of Smut (sexualness) between them, it's all i read. Aigh, i am only a high school student with limits on my knowledge so have remorse, please? Thanks!_


	6. Chapter 6 The Info and The Life Style

Extended Fanfiction (Sherlock)

By: Colvin

February 2, 2015

**Disclosure**: I own nothing of the original characters or events from the original Sherlock BBC Television show. Also, information on characters and their relationships with each other may differ with time, even their life span. I'm only writing from the data provided to me from season 1 - season 3.

Little Summary: Roman finally has a chance to get some questions answered from Mycroft. Roman's new life begins in London! Oh man oh man! Lastly, some not so new, new characters! Sweet, young, kind, LOUD but not stupid.

**Chapter 6: The Information and The Life Style. **

The jet was bigger than my mind could grasp. Larger than two normal sized planes, possibly. I pondered on how they even got something this heavy into the sky. I knew that was far out of my comprehensive vocabulary and encyclopedia. Inside, it was mind blowing. Well, to the lesser fortunate maybe. A costly tan colored couch, windows everywhere. Close enough to a glass jet in it's entirety. Just glass. A bar in the middle of it all. I was told If you traveled down father you'd find what looked to be bedrooms and a bathroom or two, even a room with a huge TV inside it. Everything looked to be made of gold and silver. Money wasn't an object when buying this jet. Object inside modeled the best offer. I wanted to be shocked and maybe inside i was but outside, as hollow as i felt, i just shrugged, gazing.

"Take a seat. We will taking off soon. Be expecting a 8 hour flight." The man in black instructed us to the couch.

I sat on the far end, looking around trying not to look impressed, i'm not sure i would look it if i wanted to. My eye were probably sagged from lack of sleep and my body was barely presentable.

"Have you ever rode in a jet before, Mr. Adler?"

"No."

"Well assure you, this will be a pleasurable experience."

Mycroft's voice sounded oddly promising.

I looked over to Mycroft who was comfortably sitting on the couch, his legs folded over each other, his hand held up his head. He had a contemplating expression on his face. Unsure on how to speak or react. It made me twitch.

Time to cut the crap.

"Can you tell me about my father?"

He sighed, "What do you already know?"

_Not much of course, that's why i'm asking you. _

"Not much," I shrugged, "Just that he and my mother were lovers. Things couldn't work because- she was in trouble? My father was a interesting man."

"Yes, your mother was in grave trouble," He hesitated, "...but a love connection between my younger brother and your mother didn't not exist i assure you Mr. Adler." He said.

_They didn't love each other? Or did my father just not love her._

"What do you mean?"

He shifted in his seat. I could tell he was watching his tongue.

"Irene was causing the parliament some chaos. She claimed to have information on the government that would "bring it to it's knees". We take threats very serious."

"Did you guys have something to hide?" I was cocky with my answer.

"No. My brother got involved to try and stop her, take the information she said to have."

"Okay. So he's a cop?"

He looked annoyed.

"Not exactly. Anyways, in the middle of my brother's confrontation with her, she said she'd never hand over the information, unless, she was granted 24/7 protection from the parliament, or dead. We then learned she was in greater danger with more than just us. She was placed with my brother and his- ...assistant for further investigation," he sat forward and took a drink of what appeared to be a alcoholic drink, "during her residency with my brother, he and her _must_ have partaken in sexual intercourse. My brother's seduction was only in the name of safety for our parliament. She handed over the supposed "secret information" the next day. She had, well, nothing we'd be _too_ worry about. The law system went on search looking for her to bring her to justice for distress of congress, attempt to corrupt the government and treason."

"I was a mistake?"

_Why would my own mother lie about her relationship with my father? I was nothing much a mistake. _

"Yes," Our eyes remained locked, "A careless mistake."

_A careless mistake. _

I wanted to be crushed by those words, i needed to be. Instead, i just continued to stare. After the hell i've been through knowing i was now a mistake, a careless, unloving mistake i was starting to understand why i was in hell. My purpose wasn't wanted, needed, requested. I wasn't a child of passion. A child of deviance.

I continued on;

"Why'd she come to America then?"

"To escape execution of course. Her life was at risk with more than us Mr. Adler. Nothing we could do."

"Why?"

"We won't protect criminals,"

_That was arguable only from me, being her son. I'd want to do anything to protect her._

"Her coming to America was the best choice. A smart one, she decreased her chances almost completely." He continued on, "Having you saved her life. Changing her for the better as well." He cleared his throat.

"Okay. -With all this information i've been told. Why do you want anything to do with me? I was a careless mistake."

He nodded and searched himself for an appropriate answer. "you are still of Holmes blood."

_So? A disgrace is a disgrace._

"And?"

"Mr. Adler. It is just me and my younger brother to carry out the Holmes name. I have a daughter. And as you can see i'm well past age to produce anymore children. Your father has no other children. You are key to our succession," his accent heavy my brain crammed to organize his speak with his words.

"-My last name isn't Holmes though."

He laughed, almost mocking me. I hate being mocked. "you will have to earn it."

_Earn it._

Those words made me squirm. Earn it. I never have had to earn a name before. I'm not even sure how someone earns a last name.

"How?" He gave me no response. "being a mistake, he isn't going to want..." I trailed off.

"Do not corner yourself Mr. Adler. Family is family."

_Family is family._

I felt relief. Not completely, just enough to sit back into the couch. My body was hugged with my soft plush fabric. I needed to relax my body was aching for relief.

_Why would you keep all this from me?_

'If you'd please excuse me i have some paper work to attend to," he stood cautiously trying not to show pain in his lower back, "Get comfortable, it's a long flight."

I didn't want to rest.

Thoughts tumbled on top of either other. I could not concentrate on one without another random one popping in front of it. I thought of my mother and how much she kept from me. How much her life was a huge secret, i'd not be let in on that. I should have. Damn it to god i should have. Spare me from this confusion. My mother was sweet, young at heart and what i thought was pretty normal. I thought i was just a normal kid.

_No. I guess not._

Here was i now. On a jet that probably would cost more than everything i'd purchase in my whole life with a ignorant English man with a accent deeper than the absis in my stomach. Going who knows where, to do who knows what, until i meet my father.

In the beginning of this all i was inexplicably excited to meet my father. Now, I was dreading it, I didn't want to look at him for i knew he'd see nothing much a mistake he shouldn't have made. He should have been more careful.

_Well i didn't ask to be born._

My eyes got heavy. Not sleeping was catching up with me. I wouldn't/couldn't sleep knowing Mr. Heartly was around. Never again. Slipping into undesirably, involuntary stages of sleep. REM sleep held me into a choking lullaby. My dreams were nothing but a nightmare. Reliving the scenarios of my mother's murder. The blood, and her blood curdling screams. Mr. Heartly, the undeniable memory flashed like strobe lights, with ever flash a different image. A different memory. The shadowed image of my father appear. His voice vibrating my brain. "_You disgust me!"_ and "_You are a mistake!" _bouncing off my skull. I couldn't please him. Live up to this expectations.

_Dear god._

This was too much.

…

"Mr. Adler."

_Who?_

"Mr. Adler, It's time to wake up. We have arrived in London."

_Oh yeah. I'm Mr. Adler._

The words were a bright light. An unforgiving blinding light in my eyes, burning my pupils. Did words have light, color to them now?

I felt around because i had forgotten where i was. A hand grabbed mine and pulled me up. Dammit, I wasn't ready to stand. I couldn't even see. I fell right into the very thing that helped me up, "Sorry!" I yelped an apology trying to make my eyes adjust.

"It's quite okay. Come alone."

My eyes only adjusted in time to see Mycroft staring at me with great concern. I crashed into him. Fuck. I assumed my eyes were red and watery. Too much lighting. My body was rejecting every motion to move or function like normal. Maybe, the plane crashed and this was heaven.

The door of the costly jet opened. The sun exposed itself to us, exposing me as well. The sun was so far, yet i was so close to it. The light was bright indeed but the radiance was splendid. It was still daylight here. Right, they maybe have been 5 hours ahead but it was still only evening.

_More light. Even brighter. Great._

"Fuck," I muttered to myself.

I stumbled out and down the stairs gripping the bars as tight before my hands changed colors. My legs weren't use to gravity yet.

"The vehicle is this way Mr. Adler." Mycroft pulling a hand on my back.

I was clearly unstable in every way. My wobbling legs, clutching arms, spinning mind. I need this guidance.

…

Sure, i've seen London on the internet, textbooks, and just social media but to see it in real life is a lot different. Everything came to life. The buildings were breathing, clustered together. Buildings of all shapes and sizes. Some older than time and others were still being built. The people were moving, life was culturally different. People weren't much different looking than in america. They dressed in thicker clothing which reminded me i was only in a light jacket. I'd say there was a twenty degree difference. It took me a minute to realize and understand all the ores that people were pulling off. Kinda like in the air port but people here, there ores were deeper concentrated colors. They were stronger, giving off more information than the basics. People here were not just easier to read, they were simple to see _through._ This was new to me.

The roads were packed with cabs, trolleys and regular cars. It was all backwards, the cars were on the left when in america they'd be on the right. Right instead of left. Man, my nerves took a beating no use to this congestion and ass backwards driving. I made me sorta sick to watch. This new life style made me sick.

"Of course," I muttered to myself. Unlikely anyone heard me.

The house, no mansion was vast. Enormous. I should have expected a massive house, maybe i actually did. But not even in the most creative part of my brain did i see it this big. four stores at least. Windows every direction, apart of the house everywhere as well. On the other hand, the colors were boring. Egg shell white and sun-glow yellow. The color didn't take away from the house size, shape and amazement. It had an original English look to it with stairs reaching to the stars, by the time Mycroft and i both reached the top we were panting. A bit out of shape.

Suddenly, Mycroft stopped in his tracks before opening the door. He removed his overcoat and draped it over his arm. His umbrella propped against the siding. He looked down at me, giving me a faint smile.

"Bracing myself." He said rolled up his sleeve.

"For?"

The black door opened in a slow fashion. Of course it would, it almost three of me high. I wasn't sure what to expect. What would be on the other side? By the looks of it, it was something Mycroft had to prepare himself for. I was honestly happened all too fast. As soon as the door opened i was defined to more of Mycroft expensive taste while he had something running to him. Someone, maybe.

"Daddy!" A high pitch voice screamed.

_Daddy?_

My eyes were spinning to find the voice.

"I missed you!" I screamed again.

There was fragile child in Mycroft hands. Her skin was tanned byt the sun but her bright pink ore pinkened her skin darker. English people ore were so concentrated. She hair was ash brown, almost the same color as Mycrofts, well without the gray. Blue eyes, just like mine, alright, her's was crystallized rather than vast like mine. Smiles as big as her face. She was extra small wrapping to wrap her trivial arms around Mycroft's large neck. She was i guess, cute.

"Adalynn, this is Mr. Adler." Mycroft held her in his arms squeezing her into hugs.

_They look so happy. _

I faked my best smile at her.

I'm not positive i even liked children. I was never around any kids other than my own age. She looked to be about five or six.

"Hi Mr. Adler, i'm Adalynn Simone Holmes, and i'm six years old!" She was confident. So loud.

"Why are you still in your sleep wear Adalynn? It's evening."

"I don't know, ask Anthea."

Mycroft sighed, continuing to hold Adalynn.

No one said anything. Mycroft was smiling at Adalynn while she planted kisses on his cheeks. He seemed like a good father, maybe even a great one.

_Dad._

Unwilling he popped back into my head. I wasn't a cute child who anyone could love I was nearly an adult. I wasn't cute either. When we meet i won't be welcomed, embraced in a tight hug and giving loving smiles. Nothing, but a old reminder.

A women, younger than my mother came strolling by. She basically came out of no where. Just magically appearing from one room to the next. She wore heels to make her taller than most things in the room. A black skirts hugged her legs, arousing legs with a white button up shirt. It was nearly see through. Well. Her ore hazed my eyes with olives, a olive green. Unique. She was holding a cell phone, absorbed inside whatever she touching her screen to. I almost could see her beautiful face for her hair covered it. Brown as well as Adalynn, Mycroft, and mine. It was healthy with natural bouncy curls. The closer she came, walking toward us her beauty glittered. She was wonderful.

"Anthea," Mycroft sighed steadily took the phone from her well cared hands, "Why isn't Adalynn dressed?"

This was Anthea. She seemed angered as the loss of her phone, folding her arms, staring Mycroft in the eyes. She carried blue eyes as well.

"I got distracted."

"I see that."

Mycroft stood not losing his composure to her. She was unforgiving in her words.

Something about their ore's wasn't right. Of course Mycroft's was silver and her's olive. Adalynn ora pink. But when the three stood as close as they were their ore changed to red. Red. A brick red. And when Anthea reached out to take Adalynn from Mycroft's arms the darker the red had gotten.

_Why is it changed shades?_

My eyes were burning as hard as i was focusing on the color changes. I haven't seen anything like this before. They had a ore connection.

_This is new._

"Come alone Mr. Adler, i'll show you around." Mycroft spoke.

The house was breathing taking inside and out. So much space made me feel vulnerable. There was plenty of air but i still struggled to breathe. I hoped i'd be able to reach a comfortable level here. Traveling across the house i was surprised at it's style and items it carried, however i wasn't surprised such items were in _this_ house. It had everything. A cook, maids, and butlers. Only the finer things for the Holmes, i see.

_Amazing._

We struggled together up the stairs. Two cases of stairs. Man, that's a lot of climbing.

"Your room is this way."

We carried on to the right side. Passing multiple paintings of artists i didn't know or ever would know, structures, and fake, maybe real plants. Possibly.

He opened the door to what would be my room on the other side.

It was a tall as my old house, back in America. The walls were Royal blue with English wallpaper. A king sized bed placed in the middle of the room, pillows covering almost the whole, so much softness. Instead of the creaminess i was use to at Mr. Heartly house this room had personality and color. Dark blue walls, black shades, bedding, including the pillows. The flooring, western red cedar was the lightest color in the room. A book case nearly poking the ceiling mighty stood in a far left corner of the room. Books of all size and thickness filling the rows. Some seemed to be recent and even popular in America and other, were old and possibly be an original. It wouldn't amaze me. I wasn't much of a read then. A desk sat beside it. A long black desk with many tiny shelves on the side wrapped around it almost making a circle. A study as they called it. The television hung in the corner on the room at an angle just perfect enough to be watched room the bed. It was a huge TV. Bigger than the one back at home.

_Home._

I was thinking about home again. I missed the smell, sugar cookies and vanilla all year around. This room busted the fragrance of pine, stall smoke and polishing agents. My home was a home and my mother filled it with us. Her love and our familyship. This house was full of emotion but i could attach to any of it.

_This is your new home._

I signed trying to clear my mind.

_For now._

"Get comfortable," he patted me on the back, "dinner is in a hour or so."

I nodded.

This was the biggest change, coming from a lower middle class family to possibly the richest family in England. Oh man.

-End.

_How was it? Please don't be scared to review, favorite, follow please! It'd help so much. i need support. But anyways i'm thinking about posting __**Chapter 7: The Test and The Tested. **__WEDNESDAY!____So maybe be looking forward to that! In chapter 7, Things have changed around and inside Roman majorly. Some more new characters! Some test and some arguments! OH yeahh. Soon! _

_About the story, i know it's not exciting or the normal Sherlock fan fiction but you need to understand if i was vocabulary enhanced enough and could think like Sherlock or even John that's what i'd be writing. I'm __**huge**__fan of Smut (sexualness) between them, it's all i read. Thank you guys xoxoxo _


	7. Chapter 7 The Test and The Tested

Extended Fanfiction (Sherlock)

By: Colvin

February 4, 2015

**Disclosure**: I own nothing of the original characters or events from the original Sherlock BBC Television show. Also, information on characters and their relationships with each other may differ with time, even their life span. I'm only writing from the data provided to me from season 1 - season 3.

_Little Summary: Roman is getting comfortable in his new home. Becoming a new person entirely. Mycroft informs him of some tests he must take. The results paid off more than what Roman expected. _

**Chapter 7: The Test and The Tested.**

Moving from not so much rags to by far beyond the riches took me a long time to adjust. I didn't have any responsibility or chores. I could basically do whatever i wanted, although i didn't. Only one rule Mycroft had, i couldn't leave the mansion without him knowing. When i did leave i had two, i assumed secret service men following me at all times. Everywhere i went. So i stopped going out. Instead, i mainly hid out in my room, sometimes for days. Or Adalynn would knock on my door until i answered to play some type of child's game. I didn't say no, i wasn't _that_ mean. One time we were playing hide and seek and i got bored of looking for her, it wasn't like the four stores were easy to look through for. I was told she stayed in the same place for three hours before. Oops?

But more than just the living standards changed. I was given a new wardrobe of clothes to wear. Fancy pants, or trousers as they'd say. And not just regular pants with a high price, dress pants. Expensive shirts of dark colors that looked like if i, a slob, would touch them they'd decenergrate. The pricey fabrics made me curl. When i _had_ to put them on i felt i was going to a funeral or wedding. Meeting the Queen of England. I tried to protest at the style but i might as well have been mute. No one was listening. Don't get me wrong, it's not like i looked bad or anything but wearing a guessed four hundred suit to dinner seemed a bit excessive.

That's not all. Even my hair style changed. I went from a shaggy loose dark chocolate curls at the end, a punk look, to a clean pristine business man cut. Not only the length changed, how i styled it as well. Sometimes slicked back with gels that probably costed more than my kidney. Other times i could wear it freely, the jagged curls laid like a tornado on my head. When i ran my hands threw my hair it'd send my fingers in a circular motion. A _bed-head_ style i called it.

I felt like a totally different person. I wasn't a teenager anymore, a young adult. The way i dressed, looked and my behavior changed. I was no longer an emotional, shy, backwards child. I was quite, observant, absent minded and empty. I felt empty all the time. Alone and by myself.

Mycroft informed me i wouldn't be finishing up my schooling, instead. He'd hire a tutor to teach me well to get a diploma. Going to school was pointless, i wouldn't learn nearly as much as i could at home. I didn't have a reaction. I didn't leave my room anymore so surrounding me with books of various subjects and stories was good enough. I use to hate reading, now it's all i did. I read book on the human body, psychology, math and science. On occasions i'd read the classics; _The Catcher In The Rye, Moby-Dick, Pride and Prejudice_ and one of my favorites, _The Great Gatsby._ In the end, i took my test without an tutor and passed with "_flying colors_". The administer said i should continue onto University. Mycroft quickly shot that down. Again, i had no reaction.

Before i knew it, id been here for three months now. I drowned myself in knowledge, i hadn't even noticed. Mycroft was hardly around, too busy with work. No one would give me any intel on my father whereabouts. I was starting to think he was dead. I only had 6 months total to find him and see if i was enough for him, i knew i wouldn't be. I stayed here because i knew i had no where else to go. I couldn't emotionally connect with the possible outcomes. Either, he'd show up at the last minute and i'd be saved from returning to America with Mr. Heartly, or i'd be forced to go with him and never see my other life again. I couldn't mentally deal with that so i repressed it.

It was too much for me.

…

_ALGOR MORTIS - The cooling of the body immediately after death to room temperature and temporary stiffening of the muscles._

_RIGOR MORTIS - Rigidity of the muscles which occurs at death._

_PUTREFACTION - The decomposition of the body upon death which causes discoloration and the formation of a foul smelling product._

I was staring out the window recounting, remembering, reorganizing a wide vocabulary i remembered from one of the Human Body After Death books i read several times. I could recall almost every page, photo and caption from the book. Captivating.

A hard knock echoed a medley throughout my room. By the tone, hardness and length between contact it was Mycroft. I've been able to identity a person by the way they knocked. I always knew who was on the other side.

The door opened without my permission. He usually did that.

"Afternoon Mycroft." I continued to stare out the window, watching Adalynn pull Anthea into a black technologically advanced car.

"It's evening Mr. Adler."

"Oh, right. Funny, jet lag is still affecting me, even after three months," I turned to him as he stood, brave. Dressed in his normal fancy. He looked tired. "You know, you know have only 3 more months."

"I am aware Mr. Adler. Do not worry."

_He's not forgotten, but he tired. Oh how he tried. _

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"You have testing today."

_Testing? What kind of test? _

"Testing? Testing for what?"

"Your father is a very intelligent man. Far beyond the normal study." he sighed, "However, the Holmes relatively are."

"I don't believe you can accurately measure intelligence's."

"I see. Well these test will be rather simple. We are expecting high results from you Mr. Adler."

He turned on his heels and left before i had a chance to give another snudly comment.

_A _t_est? Hm. This should be, fun._

...

I was sitting in a room that reminded, no, completely took me back the questioning room i was placed into learning about my mother's real life and the life i'd succumb to living. Look how ignore i was? The information nearly killed me. I could remember the smell, cleaners and smoke, how it made me feel, cold, alone and gullible. This time was different though, i wasn't in handcuffs, and thank god, Detective Clint or Mr. Heartly wouldn't be come threw the door on the side. The room was more welcoming.

I leaned around in the chair while a older man, older than Mycroft much older entered the room. The first thing i noticed is his ore was bright yellow, bright enough i squinted to see his other features. A short man, a full head of gray hair, soft facial structure, eyes that seemed to actually be yellow. His attire was casual blue jeans, plaid shirt with a tie that hardly matched. A long tan over coat, obviously bigger than him. It must be hard for him to shop for clothes his size.

_About mid fifties, wife passed about two years ago of heart attack. Shame. Three kids, one in prison for murder of her beating husband. A farmer, cattle and hog. Religious, Irish ethnic born and what else? Oh, he's very keen to see me. Wait, what the fuck did i just do? _

I shook my head in confusion on what my brain just inducted. I'd never had nothing like that happen before. I was always surprised now a days of what my brain could do.

_Did i just give a synopsis on this guy? I've never seen him before. Fuck._

He sat across from me holding a clipboard and a red ink pen.

"How are we feeling Mr. Adler?"

_By god he was really Irish. His accent give it away so easily. _

"Fine."

"I'm Doctor Cyril."

I only could stare and await his next smiley reply. I wasn't focused enough to say anything

"I'm going to be running some test on you. Nothing active just vocal. Understand?"

I nodded.

"Do you find it difficult to understand how people are feeling when they are talking to you?"

_Well, i'm not sure i understand the question. _

"What do you mean?"

He wrote something down, i couldn't read it.

"Do you find it hard to read someone face, hand, or body movement when their talking to you?" He moved his hands in a circle while he talked, i followed his movements and he wrote nothing down, but he continued, "when people are talking to you do you find it hard to know when it's your turn to talk?"

I blinked at him rapidly. These questions were making me feel strange.

"Uh-" That's what manage to stumble out of my mouth. Only because he was staring really hard at me.

He wrote something down.

"When you were young, or even now, do you cover your ears at loud sounds. Like a vacuum, fireworks or people being too loud?"

Being overwhelmed with his question i scrambled through my brain to try and see if that was true or not.

"Yes." That sounded a sufficient reply.

He wrote something down.

_Fuck._

"And last question. Do you ever feel overwhelmed with your senses you have to isolate yourself to shut them down?"

I was overwhelmed right now. He knew that. What did these questions even mean? What did they have to do with my intelligences?

I thought hard about this last question, i wanted to get it right. I took a deep breath.

_Do i ever feel overwhelmed with my senses? Of course i do. Sometimes smells become too strong, taste become too sweet or too bitter, and ore's become too bright hurting my eyes, just like Doctor Cyril's. So yes. The answer is yes. _

"Yes."

He wrote something down.

_Dammit._

"What was that for exactly?"

He finished writing what he needed down then looked up at me with a warm smile on this face, "Mr. Adler, your father has a mild case of Autism."

_I was being tested for Autism?_

"Okay?" I said.

"Just by these few questions it seems the hereditary did indeed carry onto you. Have you ever been tested for Autism?"

My mother liked me to maintain a normal life as much as possible so if i had been questioned before i don't remember nor was i ever the told the results. Just another thing she'd keep from me. Damn her.

"What do these results mean?"

"Oh nothing really," he waved his hand being frank, "having Autism doesn't make you at a _disadvantage_, more like a _advanage_."

_Advantage._

I looked at Cyril lost, i was lost. In the past couple months i'd forgotten what it felt like to be lost. Coming to England and living out of my room i wasn't lost, at least, i didn't feel that way. I knew where i was, who i was, and how much of a person i've changed since this journey began. Only, i didn't know where i was going. He was trying to ruin that for me now. No.

"What kinds of advantages?" I asked.

"Oh, hm. different kinds of advantages. Do you often feel different from everyone else? Maybe in a spiritual, psychological, and physical way?"

I had to ponder about that question. It was a loaded one. I took it step by step.

Do you feel different from everyone else?

_Other than the obviously factor i looked different from everyone else, sometimes. I feel no one else really understands what i want, how i feel. I feel i can see deeper into people than what they see in themselves, like i strangely did with Doctor Cyril. I'm not even sure where that came from. It was a scary discovery. So sometimes. _

Different in a spiritual way?

_Yes. That's easy. i have a better awareness of myself than normal people. I know how i feel, exactly how i feel, while others don't. I'm more connected with who i am, how far to push or pull myself. I'm aware of myself changes. _

Different in a psychological way?

_I suppose. I can feel when my mental status is about to break, emotionally. I know what i'm capable of. Unlikely other people, i know i'm different, and it's not a good thing._

Different in a physical way?

_I'm not sure what that meant but i'm guessing it's based on how i act. I was clearly different. Before all this i'd like to think i was normal but there'd be days i'd pick that normalcy apart. I did not have any friends, i was a loner. I brainwashed myself, filled myself with worthless information of video games and social media. I was uncomfortably close to my mother. Now, i go days on end without talking, sleeping or eating. You'd think that i was deep within some trance and thought process, you'd be wrong. I was just existing. Those days without the human needs i was just there. I don't remember thinking, relieving myself (if i did), even breathing. I was a hollow human. I couldn't feel anymore, i knew i was numb but not this numb. Damn._

It was time i answered. I wasn't sure how long we'd been sitting here, dumbfounded.

"Maybe."

He nodded and studied me more, i studied him back.

_Nicotine addict, clearly heart deceased, working for Mycroft, he knows me better than he's acting. Damn, i did it again._

"Having Autism gives you great advantage in things normal humans are not aware of."

"Such as?"

"Heightened senses. You father a malicious visual memory. Could paint an entire globe just from memory." His eyebrows rose looking at me, "I propose you have a heightened sense?"

_Vision memory? _

Sure, i could memorize a page out of a book, a long strand of numbers, various dates, what my room looked like and where everything was but i'm sure it wasn't even close enough to what my father saw. He seemed gifted beyond myself.

"Can you memorize this number sequence?"

Doctor Cyril a placed a white card in front of me. On it contained the beginnings of pie; 3.141592653589793238. I stared at it, gathering the pattern in my mind.

Too bad i'd already learned the first hundred numbers of pie when i was studying for the graduation test. Mycroft told me it'd come in handy, he was right.

I flipped over the card and looked him directly in the eyes, "3.141592653589793238462." I added on 3 more digits to brag.

"Good job." He didn't seem surprised.

"What are testing me other than for Autism?"

"Mycroft wants to see how intelligent you are compared to your father."

"How am i doing?" I cocked my head to the side.

"Your no where close." He chuckled at me.

"Oh?"

I was oddly disappointed.

"We took you results from testing at your school in America and compared them to what you scored on you graduation test. You improved by 92.4%. But your father was far more intelligent at your age then you are right now. However your ability to learn what you have in such a small amount of time is miraculous. You have a long way to go," he licked his lips, "Your father was good at giving a summary of a person without them saving a word. It came into handy. Could you do that? Just look at me and tell me what you see."

Oh god it was pouring out of my mouth, "I see, that you are about mid fifties, 58 to be exact. Your wife of twenty plus years passed away about two years ago of a heart attack, you still wear the ring because you truly, deeply, love her, you have three kids, 2 girls and one boy, one child is in prison for murder of her beating husband. i don't think she should have gone to prison for that, revenge is a bitch. You are a farmer, cattle and hog. You are Religious, Irish ethnic born and what else? "

His eye widen and his mouth almost fell to the ground.

"Oh! You are Nicotine addict, just like 90% of London. You have heart deceased, you have parkinson's. How i know that is, when you hold your pen, right handed, your elbows shake. Easy," I saw almost as surprised what was coming out of my mouth, "Am i wrong?"

"N-no" He fumbled over his tongue, "...Expect i'm not religious and i'm naturally left handed. I can't write with it anymore 'cause of carpal tunnel."

_Damn. _

We continued to do his meaningless test while i complied, barely. Testing me for color blindness, lax hearing, association testing, and common surveys. I saw no point in doing this. I had better things to do.

"Mr. Adler. You have honestly shocked me. Mycroft must hear this. Damn, you are well on your way to be the next Sherlock Holmes."

_Sherlock Holmes. _

"Who?" I was quite intrigued.

He stopped everything. The smiles melted away, he looked ten year older. He said something he shouldn't have, "Nevermind that. I must be going. Nice to meet you. We will be meeting again, shortly." He quickly gathered his coat, papers and himself. He left the room panicked. There was no one left but me and this new name i learned.

"_Shhherrrlockk_," The letter danced of my tongue. It was nearly a whisper.

…

I was back in my room. I don't remember how i got here. Walked, i guess. I found myself staring out the window, like usual. It exposed my body to the night sky. I propped myself against the glass. Think, deeply thinking. This new name was interesting. Who was he? What did he have to do with me? My father, maybe?

My bedroom door swung open and Mycroft stormed in, i felt his anger fill my room. Killing off my stale air and fill it with angry, poisoned air.

"What the hell are you doing?" He grinned his teeth together.

"Looking out the window."

"Don't be slag with me! You searched Doctor Cyril!"

"No i didn't?"

He came closer to me. His face looked drawn on, a face naturally couldn't look so pissed. I could see his angry breathing.

"You lied in you test and you conned him into telling you information you had no business knowing!"

"Oh? I'm not aloud to know my own father's name."

"NO!" He was screaming.

I didn't understand why he was upset. I did not lie on my test. How could i? Plus, slipping out the name was a mistake and bound to happen.

"So his name is Sherlock Holmes? Plus, I didn't do anything wrong. I told the truth. He said i could be just like my father one day. Isn't that what you are aiming for?" I mocked him.

He balled his fists and tried not to lose his composer. Oh fuck. I'm going to get hit.

"You will never be Sherlock Holmes! There will _never _be another Sherlock Holmes!"

Anger. An emotion i hadn't felt in months started ripping its way up inside me, starting in my legs, up to my torso and by the time it got to my head my faced flushed and i going to exploded. How had no right to be yelling at me like this. How fucking dare he. I'll show him.

"THEN WHY THE HELL AM I HERE?"

He was startled at my protest.

"To keep the family name alive."

"That doesn't make any fucking sense! You lock me up in this house, never let me go anywhere without someone babysitting me! Whipping my ass! You force me to learn all this shit without an explanation! During all of this you haven't done a damn thing about me meeting my father! Mycroft we only have 3 months! What are you waiting for?!"

The room broke. It was broken no more air, no more space, no more noise pure silence. I was back in control of my surroundings.

"...I don't want you to be a disappointment to your father."

"The _only_ one i keep disappointing is YOU!"

This is too much for me.

"No you haven't Roman. You have amazed me beyond belief. You have obtained information and knowledge that took years for anyone to learn and you did it in a couple months. You are extremely gifted. You will make your father proud. But you aren't ready." His soft was normal, nothing i'd recognized anymore. It was deep, stable, careful.

Maybe he knew he over stepped his boundary.

"When will i meet him?"

"Soon. He busy in the Netherlands."

"Why?"

"You have his name, look him up on the internet and find out." There was almost a smile on his face.

Mycroft must have felt it was his cue to leave, He turned to leave trying to not feel embarrassed at his uproar.

"Hey Mycroft." I went back to staring out the window.

"Yes?" He did not look at me just stopped keeping his head down.

"I didn't lie."

I could hear him sigh, maybe a sigh of relief or sorrow. I don't know.

-End.

_Well ain't that something! Got nervous towards the end huh? Haha, i did. Like it? Review me, please. ._. If you people like this let me know Favorite, follow. Go big or go home, right? Well i'll updating my normal Monday time! __**Chapter 8: The Discovery and The Expectations. **__Temping huh? Haha it's a interesting chapter, i had fun writing it. Some quality time for Roman and Adalynn (So cute). Roman's learns a SHIT TON of stuff about his father, Sherlock Holmes and his amazing, awesome, cute, short, handsome, sexy, arousing... okay i need to stop, but his partner! And some more Of Doctor Cyril! Roman tells him one of his secrets O_O stay tuned for next time! Love you guys :D _

_Sorry for this being up so late, busy day. Poor editing, i'm sorry. just me, my and my dyslexia editing. _

_About the story, i know it's not exciting or the normal Sherlock fan fiction but you need to understand if i was vocabulary enhanced enough and could think like Sherlock or even John that's what i'd be writing. I'm __**huge **__fan of Smut (sexualness) between them, it's all i read. Thank you guys xoxoxo_


	8. Chapter 8 The Discovery and The Expects

Extended Fanfiction (Sherlock)

By: Colvin

February 9, 2015

**Disclosure**: I own nothing of the original characters or events from the original Sherlock BBC Television show. Also, information on characters and their relationships with each other may differ with time, even their life span. I'm only writing from the data provided to me from season 1 - season 3.

_Little Summary: Roman is dying to know more about his father. He finds some more information while spending some quality time with Adalynn. So cute! Another Visit with Doctor Cyril. Roman tells Cyril one of his ...secrets i guess you could call it?_

**Chapter 8: The Discovery and The Expectations. **

You'd doubtlessly think as soon as i found out my father's name i'd began my search. But i didn't. What was a really looking for? Maybe some records on his job, schooling, and some pictures, (i was dying to know what he looked like) and even what he means to his own name. Yet, i couldn't bring myself to pull up that internet browser and get lost. I figured what ever information i really needed to know Mycroft could tell me. Anyways, with the brainwashing Mycroft did to me i was never going to be abundant to him. Why fill myself up with false hope? I knew better. I'd rather see him face to face, father to son, eye to eye and then we could go from there.

However, curiosity did more than just kill the cat, tore it to pieces. I broke down within two weeks. I had to know, just a little. His job and what was so special about him having Autism. Which i guess, i was infected with as well. Previous to knowing about my father's disability my idea of someone having Autism was a scary thought. I remembered a girl i went to school with in elementary. She had Autism, throwing aggressive, loud fits of emotion, talking to herself, often words you could never make out. Consistently moving her arms and legs, running around. Antisocial. Anyone who came around her she either hit, screamed at or cried. She was scarring for a child my age. So, after that my experience with this disability i was constrained to be scared of it. That apparently wasn't the case with my father. Capable to function like a normal person, have expressive intelligence, and surprisingly, able to have produce a kid with my mother. After doing my required research i found my father had HFA or High-Functioning Autism. There was no way i could fit into that category. I wasn't smart enough, Doctor Cyril told me. Sure, i my power to communicate with people normally lagged a bit, i was seemingly over emotional, spaced out, misunderstanding some things, and i also my strong reactions to sounds, textures, extra was unusual. Nevertheless i did my best not to noticed my Autistic tendencies. The overpowering senses and being emotionless to people's feelings. Had i truly always been this way? I'd not noticed, i had no reason too. That girl from school set the sample of Autism. Now, i was part of that disease.

I often thought about my ability to see a ore around people. I questioned what it meant, even took time to research that to, i found nothing but paranormal. i wasn't seeing ghost. It was rather simple, it was just a color that smothered people. It ranged in hundreds of different colors and shades. They changed intensities with their behavior. I guess that how i knew how emotional people were. I saw the ore rather than the face and body language. What did the ore mean, was it my way of seeing emotion and some form of personality? I thought about bringing up to Doctor Cyril, whenever i saw him again but i was wondered if he'd think i was crazy. I didn't need that. It'd probably turn into mental therapy for schizophrenia. I'm not hearing voices.

…

Remember the curiosity that was broken? It was shattered, smashed, and utterly busted. I was filled with incurable wonderance. Just a sample into my father's mystery life. He had to be more human than what my dreams were telling me.

That's it. I'm going to do it.

_Adalynn took my laptop. Dammit. _

Before i realized it i was out my room and marching down the hall. I wasn't even sure i knew where i was going considering i hardly left my room. I hoped i wouldn't get lost. But the unmissable shinning pink that captured the entire hallway showed me the way. So much pink. My eyes were going to melt.

Walking into her room was exactly how i pictured it. A pretty pure puke pink nightmare. The walls, pink, the carpet, pink, the bed, telly, and the children's playthings, all pink. It smelt like sugar, plastic and sweet roses. It didn't help that her ore naturally glowed a pink that made my eyes slam shut. And as soon as I took a step forward, blinded i tripped over a hard, rubbery object. Luckily, i was able to catch myself against the wall before face-planting.

"Roman? What are you going here?" She was innocent.

"...I need my laptop."

I was trying to regain back my balance. My eyes were burning like fresh cut unions.

"Aww! Why?" Her voice. Too loud, sounding like booming rockets. It was high pitched.

"Because!" I shoot back, rubbing my eyes.

When i removed my hands she was staring up at me, closely, puzzled.

I sighed regretfully and walked over to her. I sat down on the floor next to her, (more like collapsed beside her) pushing the laptop over to me, while she watched me intently. She had some virtual reality game up, with pink ponies dancing all over the street. So much pink. How does this child not get sick from looking at it all the time?

"Whatcha gonna play?" She asked leaned over to see the screen.

"I'm doing some quick research."

"What's that?"

Oh god, how my patients with kids was nonexistence. Growing up, i was an only child. My mother had no friends with kids that i can remember. And the only time i dealt with other kids was at school, i could barely deal with that. I didn't talk to people, i stayed clear, avoided stupidity. I was a socially impaired now that i look back at it.

I signed.

The computer's view was crooked for only a moment, then everything returned to normal. Almost. I felt slight pressure on my crossed legs.

"I wanna watch."

I looked down to see, the fragile, light as a feather brat sitting in _my_ lap. Just sitting on me like i was not a stranger or possibly maybe i was uncomfortable. I'd never been this close to another person like this for a long time. I felt weird. I put my hands around her sides as to move her but instead i didn't. For some reason my neurotransmitter wouldn't signal my arms to push her away. I just pulled her against my chest to get a clearer view. I was now breathing in her scent, she smelled like powder. Adalynn, from the moment i met her never treated me like a stranger. She honestly made me feel and look like i was apart of this family more than anyone else did. She was never scared of me, even when i yelled at her she was unmoved. I envied this child. So brave and so happy. Maybe she had Autism too.

I kept on task pulling up a search engine on the laptop. I quickly typed in _Sherlock Holmes_ pressing enter when i finished. I clicked on the first link out of many that appeared on screen. It was a local news website.

The headline read: _**Holmes Does It Again! Selene Murder Solved**_!

I scanned quickly over the report.

I went back and clicked another link, opening another new website.

Headline: _**Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson Partners? **_

Clicked another link.

Headline: "_**Four Suicides are actually Four Murders"? Says Mr. Holmes. **_

I did this process about a dozen times without much thought. I would have continued if Adalynn hadn't interrupted me, "What is it saying? Is it talking about Daddy? I see my last name."

In frustration i answer, "No."

I went back to reading. Adalynn sat there fidgeting with my shoe laces. She was getting bored. I almost forgot most children her age on have an attention no longer than a minute in a half.

I couldn't hold out anymore. I had to know. I told myself over and over again to not look that'd it hurt me, pull me down, and probably destroy me. But the resources to see it basically at my finger tips. I stopped reading a report about Sherlock cracking a five year old case in less than a week and went back to the main page with all the links on it. I drug the mouse hesitantly to the "_image"_ tab, gazing at it.

_Do you really wanna torture yourself like this Roman? _

I clicked on it.

_Of course you do._

Instantly image flooded the screen and my brain. Extreme overload. I could not concentrate on just one picture. Abort mission.

"Hey look! It's Uncle Sherlock!" He pointed at a picture on the screen.

It was a picture clearly taken by a news photographer. Flash was stated in the poorly lit room. On the right stood a man taller than the one beside him. The right man wore a long, popular seen in London black over coat. The collar popping around his neck. Making him look superior to everyone else. A blue scarf, much like the one my mother gave me hugged his neck. He was very pale, a bash smile, and much like Mycroft's and mine, deep blue eyes. His hair was curly, creating a odd shape to his hair. He was exactly how i saw him, only more human and less scary. The man on the right was my father. Well. To his left, he stood rather close. Having a lack of height, yet broad and sturdy look, the man tried to smile. But the soft feature clashed with the experience in his face. His hair a straight sandy color gray/blonde swirling throughout it a shorter cut than Sherlock. He had a black Haversack coat. Very handsome kind of guy, so was my father but i didn't want to sound egotistical. Who was he?

"Who is that?" I point to the man on the left.

"That's uncle Sherlock's best friend John." She spoke almost in a giggle, "He always gives me piggyback rides. I love John."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"Not long ago. John and i went outside and had a snowball fight!"

I tried to remember the last time it snowed.

_Last week? No two weeks ago? 3 weeks ago. _

So. Sherlock and his _friend_ were here without my acknowledgment, why wasn't i informed? How did i not see them come inside? I'm always staring out the window thinking. My time here is running thin. Very thin and i unknowingly missed an opportunity to see him. Damn you Mycroft.

"Why are you looking at pictures of Uncle Sherlock?"

I glanced back over to the picture.

"Because that is-"

Footsteps coming towards her and i interrupted me, "Adalynn dear, Daddy has to go out for a bit. So i need you to-" he stopped talking once he entered her room. Discovering us, "Roman?"

"Daddy look! Roman and me are looking at pictures of Uncle Sherlock and John." She turned the laptop from my hands.

I had nothing to be guilty off, i wasn't doing anything wrong but i felt embarrassed and caught red-handed for my curiosity.

"Oh! Doing some research are you Mr. Adler?" His voice was deep, yet playful.

No reply came from me.

"When can Roman meet Uncle Sherlock and John?" She laughed.

Mycroft gave a weak laugh, "Soon."

My eyes narrowed on his, "How soon Mycroft?"

I tried to make a dramatic effect by being so serious with Mycroft about meeting Sherlock instead, he rolled his eyes, placed his hands in his pocket and looked like he was thinking. Really, i knew he wasn't.

"Can we agree two weeks from now?"

His proposal will have to do. There was sense of fighting about it.

"Fine."

Mycroft put back on his happy father face.

"Well. Adalynn i have to go out for a bit. Anthea should be in here too soon to get you dressed. You and her are going out for ice cream. How does that sound?" He smiled at her.

I felt her whole body light up shades of pink. She was super excited and my eyes were super burning.

"Yay! ...Wait, can Roman come?" She questioned.

_I don't want to go._

"No, i'm afraid not. My friend Doctor Cyril has to see him."

_Doctor Cyril? Why does he need to see me again?_

"Oh. Okay!" She pulled herself up from my lap, her warmth on my chest and legs left as well.

"He'll be here in a hour to see you."

I nodded collecting my laptop and myself.

Anthea came strolling into the room nonchalantly, like she always did. Her cell phone in her hand and her head glued to it. She was always on her phone. I do not know how she wasn't blind. What was so interesting about it?

"Anthea, dear." Mycroft took the phone.

Anthea was use to once she entered the same room as Mycroft her phone was taken. Condition and Response. Not looking at Mycroft she went over to Adalynn and took her by the hand, giving her a small grin, "ready to get some ice cream?"

"Yeah!" Adalynn hugged into Anthea's hand, jumping around.

It happened again. Once Anthea and Adalynn passed Mycroft, who was leaning against the door smiling at them, their ore changed colors. It was that damn shad red again. The deep red i saw when i first saw them together. Time was slowing as i gazed upon them. What did it mean? Damn i need to know. Once they were out of sight his ore went without any restraint went back to silver. They had to have some type of connection.

"Why does Cyril need to see me?"

"To go over the expectations."

…

Here i was again, in the same room I first met Doctor Cyril in. It remained the same as last time. And just like last time, he walked in on cue. Bringing his blinding yellow ore and cheesy smile with him.

"Evening, Mr. Adler. How are we?"

"Why am i here?"

He took the same seat, once again across from me. He looked no different from last time either. His face was still playing some game i didn't know the rules of. By the end of the meetings i wasn't sure who was the winner or loser.

"To inform you of the expectations you are required to meet."

"What expectations?"

Looking intently into his eyes I tried to read the answer inside them before he told me.

"The expectations on meeting your father. Mycroft told me you and him agreed to two weeks from now?"

_I honestly don't think it was a agreement._

"Since Mycroft is busy today i'm going to be the one to go over the rules and guidelines."

I nodded wanting to know more.

"The reason for the painful cramming of information you've been practicing for the past couple months is to prepare you for Sherlock's Intelligence and intolerable ignorance. Also, to be smarter is not a bad thing, correct?" That sounded more like a rhetorical question, "Now Sherlock will not right off know who you are, why you are existing or what your intentions are but within oh i don't know… two minutes? He's not as quick as he use to be. But he'll figure it out."

"Alright." I nodded.

"You job is to keep calm no matter his reaction. You are not to speak unless you are spoken too. Do not speak of your life prior to that moment. Do not show any emotion really." He seemed even a little puzzled by that one.

"Everyone is making him out to be this dangerous monster."

"In a way Mr. Adler, he is. Sherlock's reaction to you be calm or it could be rather violent. He remembers your mother own by the name "_The Women_". Having a child with her probably wasn't something he intended to happen. He's strong but very weak at the same time."

I sighed, "I'm aware of my poor planning."

Doctor Cyril couldn't say anything. He frankly look uncomfortable.

"Anything else?" I asked.

He bounded his leg, nervous habit trying to think.

"Be expecting anything. Truthfully."

"What if Sherlock doesn't want anything to do with me?" I asked.

It seemed like a suitable question.

He shrugged, "That's up to Mycroft."

I don't like how this conversation is going. Meeting Sherlock was basically like trying to catch a wild dog. Be prepared for anything. Even him biting me. My future was up in the air. I hated that.

Doctor tried to cut some of tension coming off of me by changing the subject.

"I heard you looked up some information on your father. Even a picture. Tell me about that?"

I furrowed my brow at the thought trying to recall the information i gathered on him earlier. I was having difficulties. I read so much i'm not sure i actually retained the readings. Plus with the things on my mind i was ready to recollect information from an hour ago.

"He solves a lot of crimes."

It was overtly put.

"Yes. He _very_ good at it."

"And he's not even a legal detective but the cops go to him anyways when they get stuck." I wasn't sure if that was even right.

"A _consulting detectiv_e he calls himself. First one ever in my day." He chuckled.

_Consulting detective. _

I looked at the table deeply, trying to discover more data.

"Sociopath." The words left my mouth before i could actually feel them.

Doctor Cyril did not reply instantly. He just looked back at me, gapingly. "Your father is a High Functioning Sociopath as well as having High-Functioning Autism (HFA)."

_I knew i was right about that._

"I'm obviously neither one of those things. So what am i?"

"Well, you aren't a sociopath," He licked his lips, "Not yet...and the Autism i'm coming to conclude you have PDD-NOS."

"What's that?"

"PDD-NOS stands for Pervasive Developmental Disorder-Not Otherwise Specified. Sometimes people use the term "Pervasive Developmental Disorders". I looked at him to continue, "It really just means you have a form of Autism that's not exactly affecting you too much but you are not with the average."

He folded his fingers into prayer style, his breathing was so calm. I could hardly see his chest inhale, exhale, inhale.

"You also looked at pictures of Sherlock. How was that?"

He changed the subject again. He wasn't allowing me too much time to think about about diagnoses. Maybe he wasn't even right, just trying to compare me to my father as much as he could.

"I look like him. Besides the hair." I ran my hands through my untamed hair.

He nodded.

"Also saw his friend John."

Doctor Cyril poked at brow at me, leaning back in his chair. He folded his hands over his chest. He seemed so relaxed yet with the constant bouncing of his legging shown he was a bit nervous.

"Yes John, his company. He's been around for quite some time."

I saw John and Sherlock inside my head. Standing side by side, closely. Their relationship, i questioned.

"Are they...like gay together?" My voice was almost a whisper.

The words were already out of my mouth before i could take them back. I probably should not have asked something like that. It wasn't none of my business. The room broke. The walls fell and crumbled to pieces along with the floor.

"John is married and has children. ...We don't know."

Unconsciously i created an image of Sherlock and John, just them. Everything else was black. Both pinning each against a nonexistent object. There bodies crashing into each other, with their lip romantically, passionately locked together. Bracing into a erotic kiss. Interesting.

_Stop Roman, you're gross. _

We both sat there awkwardly.

"Well! Mr. Adler it was good to see you again. Do not forget what i told you. Expect and being expecting." He stood from his chair and began to walk to the door.

_Oh no._

Panic shot through me, impaling me with anxiety. I just remembered i wanted to somehow, someway bring up my ability to see colors, ore around people. Maybe this for increase my chances in some form. This was my only time to act.

"No wait!" I spat, "I- well i can- see... colors."

He turned on his heels and walked back to the table. Hovering over me.

I think i was insulted him.

"What do you mean?" He was glaring at me deeply.

I gave no reply. I couldn't speak no more.

"You see colors? What do you mean Mr. Adler?" He spoke cornered.

"...when i look at people have they colors, -coming out of them." I did not look at him.

"What color are they?"

"It just depends on the person," I think i was shaking, "Mycroft's is this dull, lead silver. Adaylnn, a destructing pain pink when i look at it i want to puke...and yours is odd enough, yellow."

He nodded, "How long have you seen these ores?"

"As long as i can remember. Growing up i loved it. The world was filled with color. But now i just want know what it means."

"Maybe this is you heightened sense that we talked about last time." He said censored.

"Okay, but it's not very useful. My father can remember almost anything and i see coloring radiating off people."

_What use did this serve? It gave me headaches. _

He shrugged.

"Like when Mycroft, Anthea and Adalynn are altogether. Their ore change from Silver, pink, and maybe a olive green to bright fucking red. I don't know why. I'm coming to the conclusion it's some connection."

I began to rub my temples in frustration. I wanted to figure out the connection was. I had too.

"Do _not _tell Mycroft i told you. I think i know the connection," He paused briefly. Heisting to say another word, his mouth looked dry. Too nervous to continue on, "Anthea is Adalynn mother."

It was like a bomb dropped on me. Disintegrating me to nothing.

"That's it! Their connected by Adalynn! Of course. But wait..."

"Adalynn thinks her mother's dead, yes." Doctor Cyril sighed, cutting me off.

"Why?"

That was a cruel thing for a child to know. But then again, it was ironic repeat of my life.

"When... Mycroft found out Anthea was pregnant he wanted to abort. He thought of himself to be too old to care for a child and far too busy." His body melted against the table, he looked down, "I'm so glad Mycroft decided to not to. There was honestly no way i could abort a Holmes child."

"He was going to abort her?" I was shocked.

"Yes. You and Adaylnn share a common come about."

Mycroft from the moment i saw Adalynn in his arms i would have never thought that he'd ever want to put an end to her life. He loved her more than anything.

_My mother probably did the same thing. _

"So punish Anthea by forcing her basically nanny Adalynn?"

He had a remorseful look.

"So when they are all three together because of the child. Their ore change as a family reflection." I added.

I quickly scanned my mind to confirm that, that was the right answer. I'm sure it was.

_By god._

"See, Mr. Adler you gift has some use. And i'm sure if you dive father into it, study it, you may find it's true meaning." He smiled at me.

_Well Roman's ability might have a some use after all! Like it? Like me know! PLEASE *^* I did A LOT of foreshadowing in this chapter. Hint, hint. Join me next week: __**Chapter 9: The Murder and The Tortured **__Some more bonding time with Adalynn. (Yay!) Someone pays Roman's a visi.t.. WHO WILL IT BE? SHERLOCK? Maybe. The chapter title should give some give-away of what's to be expected! See you next Monday guys! Sorry for errors again.. _

_About the story, i know it's not exciting or the normal Sherlock fan fiction but you need to understand if i was vocabulary enhanced enough and could think like Sherlock or even John that's what i'd be writing. I'm __**huge **__fan of Smut (sexualness) between them, it's all i read. Thank you guys xoxoxo_


	9. Chapter 9 The Murdered and The Tortured

Extended Fanfiction (Sherlock)

By: Colvin

February 16, 2015

**Disclosure**: I own nothing of the original characters or events from the original Sherlock BBC Television show. Also, information on characters and their relationships with each other may differ with time, even their life span. I'm only writing from the data provided to me from season 1 - season 3.

_Little Summary: Roman is running out of time to meet his father. When Mycroft's surprises him with a visitor. Everything changes forever. By the way i know i'm posting this kinda early but i didn't have school today. Yay!_

**Chapter 9: The Murder and The Tortured**

After my visit with Doctor Cyril i took what he said into consideration. I started looking at my ability to see ore's around people as a gift rather than a curse. Seeing the ore's had to mean something right? Other than maybe a possible reflection of human personalities. The brighter the ore, the happier the person. That'd explain Adalynn's coral, nearly neon pink that blinded me. And maybe it explained Doctor Cyril's sun kissed yellow ore. He seemed like a happy guy, easy going. But Mycroft, Anthea and My fathers ore, or at least the ore i dreamed of? They were serious people, maybe even unhappy.

Growing up seeing all these colors burst out of people of all ages was breathtaking. Being in public was an adventure for me. Every color of the rainbow hit me. I didn't question that it wasn't normal to see these colors outside of people until i got old enough to realize no one else saw them. I never told anymore, not even my mother. I was fine being different. But when it was starting to cause my headaches, emotionally over loads, and when i went to school where people talked, moved and acted like animals i blacked out. I felt like i was losing control of my surroundings, myself and i wasn't safe. I tried to separate myself but that impossible at public school. it only happened about two or year time, normally around lunch time.

Now i had a greater understanding and this ore visual ability would maybe come in handy one day.

Adalynn spent more time with me ever since i sat in her room with her to do some research. That moment stuck with her. It also meant i was her new play toy. She'd come in my room at any moment of the day just to tell me stories i couldn't remember by the time she finished. She showed me all her toys and told me stories about them. I was barely paying attention. I do however, remember her favorite toy she received from Sherlock. It was a stuffed animal, a bear with the UK flag stitched at the feet. You could obviously see it was some simple picked up from a gift shop, giving very little thought. Predictable. I was only interested in it for a moment because it was from my father but i quickly lost that captivity. When Adalynn offered to give it too me it drew my attention back in.

"Here Roman, you can have it," I looked at her cluelessly, "you've never met Uncle Sherlock and i know you really want to."

_I'm not really sure how meeting my father and this childs toy connect, but alright. _

"It's yours Adalynn."

"It's yours now. I don't see Uncle Sherlock a lot, i don't think he likes me." Her voice was sorrowful.

"He does. He's just busy."

I had to lie.

"I know. But you have it. To see him even a little is enough, you haven't seen him at all." She pushed the stuffed bear in my hands.

I held the tender bear in my arms and stared at it. Only being six she's already got the idea that she can annoy people and not everyone is going to like her. People were heartless and not everyone was going to be her friend.

Good for her.

…

"Mr. Adler."

I heard my name being called. My mind and body would not compile. Instead i laid there limp like a rock. Maybe it wasn't anything, just in my head.

"Mr. Adler."

_There it was again? It had to be someone getting my attention. Wake up. _

I opened my eyes to see a blurry black and grey figure in my view. I blinked several times before i could make a clear picture out of the figure calling my name.

It was Mycroft.

He was positioned right beside my bed looking down at me. He had little expression on his face but i could see he was uncomfortable to wake me.

"What?"

I tried to sit up but a heavy weight pushed against me, it forced me back against the bed. I peered down to see what it was Adalynn. She was laying on top of me deep into sleep. That's right, her and i were laying in bed, (well more like i was laying in bed thinking and she came along, calming her spot beside me) we must have fell asleep in the silence. Now i wake with her on top of me. Her head buried in my chest, perfectly curled into my body. I could plainly smell her topical shampoo and powered scent.

"Don't wake her." He whispered.

"What do you need?"

"Come with me."

I wasn't sure on how i'm going to do that without waking Adalynn. I organized a plan without any help from Mycroft. I hoped it'd work. I put my arms around her tiny, limp body and held her against me and rolled her to my left onto her black. It worked. She only mumbled a couple intelligible words and continued to sleep. I cautiously climbed out of bed stumbling to my feet.

Mycroft and i walked muttley toed out of the room. We dared not to wake the princess. Standing out in the hallway I was curious to see where he was going to take me.

"I have someone here i think you'd like to meet." He had a meek smile on his face.

I gave a smile back as we started walking down the hallway to this said person to be.

_Sherlock? Hopefully. _

As quick as that thought came inside my head i began to get nervous. I fiddled with my hair, making it look less messy than usual. Straighten up my clothing, good thing i got dressed today. I wanted to look like i'd been preparing for this for awhile now. And truly i was, mentally. But on this short notice i scattered for the right words to say. I was currently mentally preparing myself to see Sherlock standing in the living room, the fireplace roaring, his skin pale as usual. He'd be more aged by now than the pictures i'd saw. I guessed he'd still have that long over coat i saw him wearing in some many pictures. I wondered if he'd smell like i thought, smoke and lemon tea. Lord, my stomach was fluttering.

I kept my head down in high hopes when i looked up i'd be welcomed and surprised. When we entered the living, and i looked up, boy was i surprised.

"Mr. Hearlty? What are you doing here?" Mycroft's voice cornered.

_Oh my god. _

It wasn't Sherlock.

I backed up slowly, beyond alarmed. My body temperature dropped fifty degrees. I was frozen against the wall. An ice sculpture scared stone cold. This wasn't happening. He shouldn't be back for another two weeks. Plus, Mycroft requested for an extension. I oppressed the thought of him even coming back. Mycroft promised i'd never see him again. Oh god, no, please don't let him take me. My heart was beating in my ears, i could barely hear Mycroft and his conversation.

"You've failed to meet our agreement. Mr. Davis will be returning back to the States with me. Tonight." His words were cold.

I shook my head repeatedly. I didn't wanna hear this. I wasn't going with him. I couldn't. He'd hurt me again, breaking me into microscopic pieces. He fucking abuse me again. Hell no!

"I requested for an extension." Mycroft seemed taken back.

My. Heartly held up some papers, "Extension denied."

His words were so sinister. Demonic with every syllable.

_What if this is all a trap? What if all this was planned? This is how it's going to end for me._

The idea seemed feasible to run the scenario though my head. What if Mycroft knew all along it was Mr. Hearly who i was supposed to see? He's playing dumb. This was all the trap. I wasn't smart enough, quick enough, socially impaired enough. I'd never be approved by my father or by this family. I tried so hard! Mycroft only had the intentions to rob me of my dreams to meet my father. Mr. Heartly only had the intentions to hurt me. Oh no. Neither of them said another word. Just stood there, waiting on me to act.

"...No." I mumbled.

I was mindfully freaking out on the inside. My heart was aching with pain. I could have a heart attack if were any younger and unhealthier. My blood was rushing, i was light headed. I couldn't keep up with this. I was seeing doubles of everything in sight. My stomach was twirling inside me. A mixture of painful memories and rage brewing inside me. I couldn't do anything to stop it. Mycroft and Mr. Heartly stood there staring at me, casting their silent judgements. I'd never be enough. Nonetheless, I wasn't leaving no matter who wanted me to or not. I wasn't going anywhere with that monster.

I'd stepped out of my own body. I didn't know that was even possible.

I knew this because i literally _watched_ my body language change. The room burning of flames, I set the whole room on fire, this moment in time was my deepest part of hell. The thing i feared the most right now, Mr. Heartly, standing in front of me. He was trying to take me from this new life i'd subcome to. Mycroft and playing some sick joke on me. Like i actually had a chance to meet Sherlock. Of course not, i wasn't enough. Not enough.I knew this. I watched my terrified shocked face melt into a emotionless mold, mocking Mr. Heartly. My body loosened from the wall and i stood on my own without any support. I wasn't me, Roman. I was the hollowed man he created inside myself. I, _he_ was out ready to do what _he_ thought was necessary to stay alive.

Before i knew it my legs were moving towards Mr. Heartly. I had no color in my eyes just the blackness he formulated inside me. He and i were the same now, just two monsters in the shape of humans. Living like them but never exactly feeling like them. Having no human remorse, understanding, absolutely, wholly soulless monsters. Not being the afraid boy wanted to me to be, but i was the monster he unwillingly constructed out of me.

_He's going to pay. _

I was only inches from him. Our bodies lined up almost perfectly. My eyes locked down onto his. No expression from either side. Hollowness. He killed everything inside me.

I spoke in a whisper. But loud enough for him to hear, quite well, "Karma's a bitch."

I hadn't even had time to even understand what i just said to Mr. Heartly before i reached forward and pulled his gun from the holster. This is how i knew Roman wasn't in control any more. How could i even know he'd carry a gun with him? I knew he had one but how did i know this very second he'd have it on him? He wasn't expecting any danger, until now. All i had left was assumptions. It happened all too fast. I took a step back from Mr. Hearlty and aimed the gun at him.

"Roman what are you doing?!" Mycroft called.

I wasn't answering. This numb monster was holding the gun, harvesting my body. I didn't not look away from Heartly. I remained on target. He was staring down the barrel of the gun i reached for when he violated me.

_I wondered if it was loaded. _

There was no fear in Mr. Heartly's eyes, he didn't not see the potential death in front of him. He stood like he knew i wouldn't pull the trigger. And maybe i wouldn't. But after all he put me through, i wasn't sure on that. Unknowingly i cocked my head to the side. His emotionless face soon broke when, oh fuck, i pulled back the hammer. The room's silence quitened even more. Everything stood still, even the air, the fire i was seeing died with lack of oxygen. No one breathed, no one moved, no one spoke. This numbness was in full control. His frozen face finally broke into sweats and a scared, panicked, horrified look, his eyes widen and his heart beat was punching his neck. I could see it pulsing. Sweating, he seemed like be about to beg for forgiveness. _Prefect_. I wanted to see him on his knees crying and begging for mercy. God, that'd be marvelous.

"Roman,-" He began to speak.

"Roman's dead," I said cutting him off.

And just like that it happened.

Something that i'd have to live with for the rest of my life. Growing up, knowing I could never take it back, and sadly, i never wanted to. I never felt bad for what i did. A not so human qualified justice. It'd be forever apart of who i am and what i was capable of. Judgement casted upon me from those who knew. It defined me for the longest time. When i thought about him i thought about what i did in return and i'd smile. This was what justice was. A new person was born when this happened, who i was for the rest of my life while…

I pulled the trigger.

Ending his.

Besides the sound of the echoing of the gunshot and the endless ringing, loud deafening ringing that followed after it everything was dead. Mr. Heartly's body dropped with all his weight to the floor, crashing, _bang_. More blood started to pool around him from where'd i shot him, the bullet went straight threw his head. I wore some of the impact blood. Staring at his body on the floor, watching the blood drain from his lifeless body. He died with a scared glare on his face. Almost exactly like the abused and slaughtered face of me. It was my cue to fully return back inside my body. The numb monster was going back into hiding again. No one was there to support my body once this feeling felt.

I stepped/fell back into my body. My temperature was ice, my body stiff. Throbbing head pain from the ringing.

_Oh. God. What have i done! _

I blinked several times. My vision was blurring out. Once it came back into view I was staring down at Mr. Heartly body, lifeless, dead body. I killed him. I took his gun and i killed him. I took his life. I _killed_ him. _I killed him_. Oh god.

I _KILLED HIM! _

"-I..i k-illed..him" I mumbled.

I'm still holding the gun. I looked, then rejecting the gun. frightfully, my hands shook as the gun fell onto the floor beside Mr. Heartly's body. I killed him.

I shriveled, tensed up, my body shaking uncontrollably. I was in shock at what i did. I killed him. I started to cry. Not just weak tears, ball inconsolably i couldn't believe what i'd done. I turned ghostly to look at Mycroft. He came storming at me with panic rage in his eyes. He grabbed my arms and shook me harder than i was shaking on my own.

"What have you done?!" He screamed at me.

"I'm sorry!" I called through all my sobbing.

"You killed him!"

He was right in my face.

"I know! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

He grabbed my arm and started dragging me away from Heartly's body. He was nearly running, my legs where trembling to bad to hardly walk.

"Mycroft!" I yelped.

We were going upstairs now. I should have known where we were going. I'd walked this way hundreds of times but being as scared as i was i'd lost sense of direction.

He pushed me into a room, my room.

"Stay in here! Do not come out!"

"Don't leave me!" I begged.

It was too late. He stormed back out, slamming the door forcefully, leaving me behind. I looked around, lost, Adaylnn was gone. I was in this huge room by myself. What would happen to me? I was going to go to prison. Or maybe even killed. I didn't matter to anyone. I was nothing.

_Why Roman? Why?_

My legs grave out from under me. I collapsed to the floor weeping. It's all i could do was cry. I _killed_ someone. But it wasn't me, it was that numb monster who kill Mr. Heartly. Oh my god. Mycroft was going to kill me! I fucked up! I waited for that numbness to kick back in. That feeling i felt after what Mr. Heartly did to me. I prayed it'd come back and everything would be okay. I wouldn't be able to feel anything. I could stop crying like a child and pull myself together, face this all without any emotion. When that feeling didn't return, i just got angry. I screamed, kept crying and threw myself around. Eventually i got up on my feet and just like before, i destroyed my room. I don't why in stressful and horrible times i destroy the things around me. Maybe a reflection of how i felt. I was a mess. I tore everything i worked for up. The books i read made it's new place on the floor, the research papers of various subject flew all over the room like white planes in the skies trying to shoot down King Kong. I tore the bedding off and threw it around like ashes to the flames. Yeah, i lost it again. I was screaming, shouting, crying and hitting punch everything. It seemed all in slow moe.

I, Roman Adler/Davis killed a man. A man who deserved to die, but i couldn't believe that i was the guy to take his life. Now, i was going to go to prison or die. Which ever came first.

…

For almost a week straight i didn't sleep, eat, bathe, or talk to anyone. I wasn't allowed. Mycroft locked my room from the outside. Instead, i cried, destroyed everything until it was in pieces that couldn't be fixed, like my sanity. I wasn't losing it because Mr. Heartly was dead anymore. I itched like a caged animal because i was the chosen one to kill him, now my destiny was unknown. That's what made me tick. I scared people. I scared myself. I never really knew my potential until i did the worst thing possible. Kill a man.

At least once a day i went on my rampage to ruin the remains of what i already demolished. I communicated with myself. I'd done flew over the cuckoo's nest. No one understood my pain. I was a monster.

Today i was in the middle of one of my unmanageable, disobedient fits. It felt good to release this anger inside me i've held for so long. I'd forget for while what it even felt like to feel vexation and rage. i cried quietly and tore anything and everything up.

I heard under all my chaos the door open. Mycroft stepped in not even glazing at the mess i made.

"Mr. Adler!" He called putting his hands behind his back.

I stopped, not looking at him. Too emotionally raw to look at his disappointment.

"I'm sorry." I spat.

"I know."

"I've ruined everything."

He hesitated, "...Why'd you do it?"

I still could not look at him. I did not respond. I couldn't tell him what he did to me. It was no excuse, to him.

"I'm sending you somewhere to calm down. You're too much of a danger to my staff, my family and yourself."

I swung around and looked at him, wide eyed, afraid, "NO! I'm sorry Mycroft! Please don't."

"I'm sorry too." He walked out of the room, leaving the door open.

My eyes didn't leave the sight of the door. He left it open for a reason. I was a deer in the headlights when two men dressed in white entered the right. Oh fuck. I'm going to any asylum.

_I'm not crazy, just emotionally fucked up right now. I don't need a asylum. I'm not crazy! _

"No." I shook my head back up, "NO!"

They approached me carefully. Crazy and dangerous that's how they saw me. I was no longer a person, a nut, i finally cracked.

I back myself up against a wall, fuck. They kept coming at me, "No! Please no!" I cried.

One of the man in white grabbed my arm, pulling inside a restraint choke hold. I fought back, kicking my feet at the other guy. If i was going down i was going down swinging. Suddenly, i felt a stinging pinch on my neck. My body was starting to get heavy. My muscles were becoming lax, i could no longer fight them back. My vision was fading out, brain activity was slowing. It felt like i wasn't breathing but i was deprived of the oxygen that the man caused me to lack. I can't see, hear, feel or think anymore.

_This is the end. _

…

_Ahh. My head. _

My head was throbbing. Pounding in my skull.

I opened my eyes only for them slam back shut from a white bright light shining. I held my hand over my face and sat up. My neck was sore, my head hurting, everything spung. The air was cold, very, very, cold, i choked on it when i actually noticed. It smelt like bleach. Everything was itchy, white, clean and _so_ fucking bright. My eyes adjusted slowly and details of the small started dripping in. A rather large reflecting silver door bolted in front of me, the wall white brick, four walls, four corners and a cotton matt with me on it in the center of it all.

I wouldn't ask where i was. I knew where i was, an asylum. Just like Mycroft threatened. Here i was.

I pulled myself up, losing my footing fell down. I was so dizzy. I got back up and crashed against a wall. I wasn't wear any shoes or socks. In fact, i wasn't even in my own cloths. White thin, clothed pants and a white t-shirt to match. Fuck.

I gradually started to recall the events leading up to this very moment. I woke up, Mycroft took me to see Mr. Heartly, he tried to take me back to the states, exchange of some words, i took his gun and killed him, then i was locked in my room for a week to have ravenous mental break downs, i couldn't cope, nor process it. Now, it's quite clear, i belong in this asylum. I couldn't cope with my mother's death correctly, i changed into a completely different person to please someone i'd now never meet, the changed wasn't bad, i unlocked knowledge i'd never know otherwise, i became apart of something better than i had planned for myself. But in the midst of it all i ended up killing the man, the very man who broke the innocence inside me. This was that was left for me.

"Mr. Adler! You are up! How are we feeling?" Doctor Cyril came rushing through the door in a doctor's coat and a clip board. Normally he worn slacks and a button up, he looked as more professional than usual.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, i'm your doctor."

I questioned his placement.

_He's a asylum doctor too? _

"Where's Mycroft?"

"Not here. You in Ashworth Hospital."

"Why am i here?" I knew the answer to that.

"In the past six months you've had two psychotic breakdowns."

"You've been keeping tabs on me, even before i came to England?" I questioned.

"Yes. For the past three-four years we have."

_Four years they've kept tract of me? Mycroft known about my existence longer than just my mother's death. Something wasn't right._

"How long am i going to be here?"

Thank god for overly annoying bright yellow ore, the white was starting to make me sick.

"That's up to Mycroft and your behavior."

All i could do was nod. I had no power in any of this. I didn't want to be here any longer than i had to be.

"What about Mr. Hea-"

"MR. ADLER," he started with his voice rattling my ears. Stopping me in mid sentences, "As far as this hospital is concerned you are here for psychotic mental breakdowns... _and that is it_."

The last few words didn't make sense to me. I looked at him with great confusion.

"Mr. Hartley's wear abouts is not the problem here. Your mental status is." That stupid Irish accent was talking.

I could only stare at him.

_Oh i get it._

I finally was caught up with this game.

"Okay."

"Now," He smiled, "If you'd come with me, please."

He held the door open and waited for me to exit.

Barely walking i stepped conscientiously into a long hallway extending almost endless in both directions. The walls blue, bare, depressing.

"Where we are going?"

Doctor Cyril started walking down the right hallway leaving me behind. I followed him but lagged behind.

"Remember those ore's you told me about?" his accent made it seem like less of a question.

"...Yes."

He did not reply, we just kept moving. His coat swayed side to side with every step he took. The air hit it just right because his height, his stature, the length of his coat blinded my vision from anything in from of me. Before i knew it a door was opening, nearly hitting me and Doctor Cyril disappeared behind the door. I chased him intentionally.

It was just another white room with the same four walls and corners. The only differences was a rather wide white tank it was only half my size in height. I'd never seen anything like this before. It looked futuristic making a silent humming sound. A pod, that's what it made me think of. Some type of pod.

The same two men in white that took me from Mycroft's entered the room without permission. I felt unnervingly uncomfortable. I wasn't going to get another needle in my neck, i stood closer to Doctor Cyril.

"This is a sensory deprivation tank," he patted the top, "I'm going to put you in here about an hour. You will completely deprived of all your senses."

I swallowed hard and choked to talk, "Why do i..."

"To calm you down of course." He smiled.

I did not like the idea of this.

"I don't want too."

"To bad." He stepped aside from the tank opening the door up revealing a pitch black entrance.

I began to back up. The two men in white grabbed my arms lifting me off the ground carrying me over to the tank.

"NO! I don't wanna!" I began to kick.

I was shoved in head first and the rest of my body flew without much of a fight. Water splashed around in, i could feel the thickness of salt splashing around. I motioned towards the door ripping through the water.

"Let me out please! Doctor Cyril!"

Doctor Cyril appeared at the exist. I couldn't see him just his yellow ore shining in. "Relax Mr. Adler. This isn't meant to be a stressful experience. I'm testing your reaction to sensory deprivation. If you recalled to be able to see "ores" orbiting people this test should eliminate that. I ran this test on your father years ago." his voice was thick echoing buzz. I felt around looking for an escape in a mild panic.

"How'd he react?!"

"Not good. But he no longer saw ores around people."

_Oh fuck no. _

The door close and locked. I was left into darkness. Everything went black and i saw, heard, felt nothing but the warm water. I pounded on the manically, "Let me out!"I knew i was saying words, i could feel them but i couldn't hear them. Everything was pure silence. My senses were done. I was a nonconscious thing in a spaceless tank of warm water.

_Oh no. _

_~~Roman is feeling/hearing things that don't exist right here~~~_

I hit the sides of the tank as hard as i could. I couldn't even hear the impact of the punch. Suddenly, i felt something touch my foot. I pulled it away. Scared, i tired to look around for someone. Nothing. Something touched my arm, then my back, it pull my hair back as i fell into the water. my arms were pinned down it was grabbing my legs, pull me down deeper into the water. Make it stop. Who is holding me down? I began to hear faint whispers. They got louder the more i stayed still to hear them;

"_What have you done?!_" Mycroft

"_You ungrateful bastard_!" Mr. Heartly.

"_Roman! Save me! Roman!_" My mother.

"_You disgrace_!" Sherlock.

I held my ear trying to block them out.

_Make it stop please make it stop! _

"_MURDERER!_" They all screamed at once.

"MAKE IT STOP!"

The whispers evolved into bleeding screaming i couldn't hear my own screams, just their. Killing me, mocking me, and depriving me of everything i felt. I was nothing.

-End.

_Wasn't expecting that, huh? PLOT TWIST BRO. Review, follow, favorite please! I love it :* just like you guys! Hope you aren't to mad at me. xD Roman's going to be okay. Next Monday: __**Chapter 10: The Release and The Wealth.**__I'm not going to do Roman's time in the asylum it's not very interesting just a lot of bad therapy and staring out windows like a zombie. But Roman's a little older, wise and darker. Maybe suffering from a strange addiction? .O. oh my! The really truth behind his mother's dead is revealed! All and this more next Monday! Have a great day!__ 3 Sorry for errors .-. _

_About the story, i know it's not exciting or the normal Sherlock fan fiction but you need to understand if i was vocabulary enhanced enough and could think like Sherlock or even John that's what i'd be writing. I'm __**huge **__fan of Smut (sexualness) between them, it's all i read. Thank you guys xoxoxo_


	10. Chapter 10 The Release and The Wealth

Extended Fanfiction (Sherlock)

By: Colvin

February 21, 2015

**Disclosure**: I own nothing of the original characters or events from the original Sherlock BBC Television show. Also, information on characters and their relationships with each other may differ with time, even their life span. I'm only writing from the data provided to me from season 1 - season 3.

_**Some explanation:**__Alright so this technology is __**part two**__ of my little story. A lot has changed, kinda. Roman is older and changed. By changed i mean he's more intelligent and thinking externally rather then internally. He's all about defiance. I decided to post this early because i couldn't wait! Haha i'm currently writing chapter 20. It's great! Yea, i know i'm way ahead of all you guys. But i need to be. Sadly, my motivation for this story is decreasing... I need your love and support. Please let me know how you like the story. Thank you, enjoy._

_Little Summary: It's been over a year now Roman's been in Ashworth Mental Hospital and they're finally letting him go. Roman is a changed person, but is it for the better? How cynical could Roman be? Some flirting, some remembering and some discovering! Roman learns more about him mother even HER DEATH! How'd she die? Why? What for? What did she leave behind? Mycroft knows all but doesn't tell all. Lastly, mentioned throughout the chapter: hint! Roman has unsightly addiction and he loves it. _

**Chapter 10: The Release and The Wealth.**

"Mr. Adler."

"Yes?"

"Come with me. You are going home."

_Home - the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household._

I wasn't confident on how much time had passed since i'd ever been "_home_". It felt like centuries considering i couldn't remember the feeling, the sound, the smell, the means of _home_. Arguably, i knew it was actually about two years. Two years since i'd been home back in America with my mother, who was now gone. That was my home. Ever since her death, i can't remember a place i really could call _home_. Such a mortification.

Two years ago i began an adventure to find my father who was located in the UK. During my transaction to coming to London England i was placed with middle aged man who was an unsympathetic, blatant, arrogant prick who harassed me for a month and a half. I manically killed him six months later in some psychotic nervous breakdown. When i came to England i was place on a pedestal i knew i'd never be able to live up to. In a six month period i tripled my IQ, discovered i was _autistic_ and become socially impaired. My father, a man i'd never live up too, but forced to facsimile was impossible as each human being is not a copy of each other. What would be the purpose of a single soul? Maybe i no longer had one. I unearthed i was worthless to the Holmes family and i'd be now out of the picture. I could not met their expectations and as time passed i learned to expect, embrace, and enjoyed i was no longer a puppet. Hanging motionlessly from the strings of its master.

Also, in the two year period i was destroyed, molded, and reborn from a oblivious ignorant child to a potentially unpredictable and calamitous young adult. I had a true understanding of my standpoint in this word, i was often nothing. Nothing less than disgraced waste like rubbish on the side of the road. Corrupting a beautiful picture of highway. That highway being the Holmes name. Comprehensive my ancestral existence. Dead.

I remained in Ashworth Hospital and served my sentence well behaved as i could be, _well tired_. During my residency i undergoed numerous type of testing, treatment, therapy, and medications. Those weren't important anymore since i was going _home_, correct? I was placed on antidepressants (apparently my sorgentone were low.) I guess my enthusiastic attitude about being in a asylum wasn't as high as they expected. Also i was prescribed heavy formulated sleeping pills. I now longer slept. I felt no need to sleep. I had other things to do. My body could run on four hours of on and off sleep a day. After my battle with the sensory deprivation tank it too played a key role in my inability to sleep. When i tried, all i heard was loud whispers, flowing warm water and something grabbing me from my attempt to sleep.

In addition i was placed on a medication to help with my stress levels. (letting emotional overwhelmingly slow and weekly panic attacks be treated) Strangely that quickly led to create something more than just queer and misfortunate inside me. I was hormonally inhuman. Once Doctor Cyril realized the medication was causing my shameless, erotic behaviors i was taken off the it. The problem on the other hand, got worse. The medication permanently made a home within me. Induced or not, I begged, pleaded for this release. My morals were nothing but handfuls of sand slipping through my fingers, i would do _anything._

This new dependency was extraordinary. Flowing through my shakened veins drowning into oceans of stimulation and clemency. I chased this high as often as i could, day or night, morning or night. I urinated for my fix. I became a dispute for staff, getting many of them fired, resigning or coming back for more. I played a card to this surrender, while they became addiction to my performance and gambling game. There was no cure, no remedy that could tame me. Nothing existed of equal value but the actual thing. I craved it uncontrollably.

The memories of Mr. Heartly i repressed successfully. I no longer had emotionally breakdowns when i thought about taking his life. I internally made the decision taking his life was the best option necessary. It immorally good. I'm positive i wasn't his only victim and if i hadn't done anything to stop him there'd be others. I saw myself doing a favor for the world. Exterminating a human whose birth given right to breathe stopped that day i pulled the trigger. Without a proper punishment, other than mental institutionalized treatment I was never taken to court, tried, or sentenced. By the way Doctor Cyril went about it i was conditioned to believe it never happened. I was okay with that.

Sometimes though, i wondered what had happened to him. His body. And how Mycroft was able to do it. Letting me get away with murder of a federal officer. None of it mattered now. Time had passed and i changed. I enjoyed this change. I continued to learn about almost anything that i found interesting. Rarely, but i did happen i'd read deeper into my father's life when granted computer time. I still wanted to meet him sometime. Within two year i faced every possible demon but him, Sherlock Holmes, my father was the biggest and scariest demon i ever had.

Two years. A month and half with a now dead man. Six months with my uncle and his riches. A year and perhaps a half year in Ashworth Mental Hospital. Damn.

I found myself looking in the mirror.

They were letting me out. I was finally out of Ashworth Hospital. I rehabilitated to them. I was rehabilitated, no reborn to myself. When i looked inside that mirror i thought of how i looked before i came here, scared, lost and miserable. Now, intelligent, smug and quite pompous. Changed inside and out. The boy i was before Ashworth was dead compared to the man i was now. I felt taller, more filled out, my voice felt deeper and carried more meaning. My body language became a game to people, never knowing what i'll do next. My mind extended in ways i created. Open minded.

Surprisingly, yet disappointing the sensory deprivation tank did not take my ability to see ore in people away. Doctor Cyril's treatment did not work. I never told him that. No more treatments. Being in here i invented a new me with a unremovable hint of the past.

I was wearing dress clothes. No more sweatpants, t-shirts, bathe robs, or sweaters. Finally some fabric other than itchy cotton. Black dress shoes, right size of ten. Tan khaki pant, slim fit, (just how i like them accept not black. ), a black button up with a navy blue cardigan to go over top of it. A cardigan wasn't something i went for i didn't care I felt human, i wore clothes of meaning, style and personality. Just how i like it too before. I ran my hands through my hair, it'd gotten long, only a gliding past my ear but the curls didn't appear like they normally did. Chemicals and medications dissolved the beauty. Now, my hair, just rugged waves rolled over my dark brown. The shaggy look was back twisting with a wavy gentlemen's cut. I felt like my old self, kinda.

"You look good." A voice sweetened me. It was Doctor Cyril.

"Thanks." I straighten myself up.

He was holding a bottle of pills.

"Here. Take these every time before bed."

"What for?"

"Sleeping."

I took the bottle of pills, studied them, then placed it in my pocket.

"Why are you letting me go?"

He stuttered, "t-there is no reason to keep you here."

"I'm socially acceptable?" I laugh sarcastically.

"You can always come back." He smiled.

I'd be sure i'd never return. My time here was shaping in the long run but everything in between was a living hell. I really should just forget about Ashworth.

I pulled on my black overcoat i was given. It was soft, i felt warm. I fixed it to conform with my body. I don't remember having clothes like this.

"All set?" Doctor Cyril asked.

I nodded and followed him to front door.

Doctor Cyril opened the door for me, exposing me to the outside world, a world i wasn't welcome to. A world without white walls and itchy jumpers. The cold air rushed inside, spiriting through me. My lungs instantaneously filled with the spiky cold air. It hurt and i loved it. When it hit my face, it burned, i wanted to feel more. I couldn't remember the last time i felt actual breathed in fresh air. It felt good.

This was a new start for me.

I was pleased by this thought. I was old enough to take care of myself, live my life that way i wanted to. No more cramming learning material, medications, tubes or gonads. I was free to make my own choices and be who i want to be. Interesting.

But... i have no where to go.

Reality just fell around me. Not being more than five minutes outside i already thinking about turning around and going back. I was homeless, jobless, broke and fresh out of a asylum. Since Mycroft was the one who sent me here because of my deranged mental breakdowns even before the murder of Mr. Heartly i assumed he wanted nothing to do with me. I was _really _on my own. Could i conform?

_Sherlock - My father._

I'm sure i could ask around, get some directions. If Mycroft wasn't going to help me, i was just going to have to help myself. The worse my own father could tell me is that he despises me, i'm a mistake and wants nothing to do with me. So, nothing i haven't heard before. It was worth a shot.

I took my first steps to a better life. Putting one foot in front of the other. I ate every part of England up. Sinking in my better sensory information. The cold air, race traffic, the breathing buildings, careless people and their gaping ore's. I kept to myself. Pushing past people. The most human life i've been around in a long time. I felt smothered, pushed away, and abused. Their action careless.

I hunched down into myself coat walking aimlessly.

I just happen to look up from the ground from where i walked for a second. From the distance stood Anthea, i knew it was her. The olive green ore blew up in my eyes. Her face was buried in her phone. Her beautiful self was leaning against a clear black jaguar. In a black long sleeve form fitting dress and heels. She nearly blended in with the car.

I unknowingly walked right up to her. What was i even going to say to her? I had no place in the Holmes family. No business talking to Anthea.

"Anthea? how is-..."

She glanced up from her phone cutting me off, "Mr. Adler. Just on time." I looked at her blankly, "Get in. Mycroft needs to see you."

"What for?"

"Get in." She held the door open impatiently.

Well it wasn't like i had much else to do. No where to go. I might as well go.

Anthea got in on the other side. Then we headed to our destination. She sat there looking very tempting just to touch. She was beautiful. Her long legs were longer than her small tight black dress. She was attractive in my eyes, even being older than i. But that damn phone she lost herself in made her look ugly and humped over. It had to go. I need her attention from it.

When i looked at Anthea i wondered what all her sadness was all about. She always put on a good show for Adalynn. I couldn't understand her pain. The pain of having your bosses child only to never have it _mommy_. She were nothing but a nanny. Did she love Mycroft? So to cope with those troubles she buried herself in smart technology.

"How is Adalynn?" I started off.

I did happen to think of Adalynn often when i was in the asylum. She gave a good insight of what it takes to be a big brother and someone's friend. Even though i was almost a decade younger than me, i felt at some levels she understood me. She enjoyed my existence, she loved to be around me, she made me feel needed. Sleeping was never cold, and empty with her beside me. Without me she was lonely, just like i am. So really, how was she? I missed her a lot. Did she miss me?

"Fine." Anthea did not remove her eyes from the phone.

Exasperated i started at her. Still she did not move.

"Anthea," I said softly, reaching for her cell, I took it from her grip, setting it down next to me. She looked at me offended but she wasn't going to do anything about it, "How is she?"

She sighed melancholy like, "She's fine. Give my mobile back."

"No, i'm talking to you."

"Adalynn is good. She's happy and misses you."

Just what i wanted to hear.

"How are you?" I asked.

"I'm okay."

She of course seemed like she didn't want to talk, too bad. I did. I started intently into her blue eyes. She never looked happy. Such waste of such pretty skin.

"You look alluring this evening." I gave her a smile.

I could tell she was holding back a returned smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Adler."

I kept my eyes on hers, giving a mysterious smile. Maybe before we go to Mycroft's i could make her look beautiful inside and out. She needed to reminded of her beauty and i'm sure Mycroft did an awful job of that.

"That dress makes you look divine."

There was her smiles. Soft, sky with straight white teeth.. I was getting to her so easily. Her cheeks turned pink.

"Thank you."

Before i could say another thing. The car came to a complete stop.

"Just go up to the house. Have a good evening Mr. Adler." She instructed me.

Feeling defeated by car travel time. I got out of the car, slunking myself around.

This wasn't Mycroft's house. I was standing helplessly in front of old, empty and frankly creepy house. I'd never seen it before. It wasn't as grand as Mycroft's house, small only being two stories tall, with a cotswolds castle style to it rather than a modern English like Mycroft's. dead vines wrapped around the old mansion. Dead trees, bushes, shrubs and grass laid out the platform. A rustic broken water fall in the center of the house. the cracked, broken down by weather driveway made a circle around it. Everything about the house was just dead. The dull colors of the sandy brown layout didn't help the beauty.

It was black on the inside. How could Mycroft be here? There's nothing of human life form here for what seems to be a long time.

"I don't-" I turned around to tell Anthea my thoughts but it was too late. The jaguar pulled away. I was stuck here.

Hiking to the house i kept my eyes open, browsing for anything that provided a threat. Once i reached the door i about turned around and left. This was all too stretchy. Why would Mycroft be in a abandoned house? Letting curiosity get the best of me, i began to reach for the door. Before i could grab the door handle, i felt cold fingers slide inside the neck of my coat and pull me back. I stumbled back, nearly falling on my ass. My eyes scanned to whom may have grabbed me. Mycroft stood there in front of me, a cocky grin on his face and his cheeks red from the temperature.

"Eager aren't we Mr. Adler?"

I straightened myself out, "Eager for what?"

He laughed mockingly and directed me towards a bench to our left.

"Come sit."

I joined him on the aged bench. We did not speak just gaze out to the dead surroundings about the house. It was grave to look at because of the early winter. Everything was dying. Just the nature selection of the seasons.

"Alright?" Mycroft voice was raspy.

"Fine."

"That's good. Enjoying the outside?"

"It's cold."

Mycroft smugly laughed.

Within a year he's hadn't changed much. Same silver ore, same body language, same contemplating facial expression. Still trying to lose weight. Maybe it hasn't really been a year. Nothing changed. Then again, a year really isn't all that long.

"You know, it was the best for you." He began, looking out into the sky.

I joined him gazing out into the sky, unsure what were actually looking at.

"How'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Let me get away with murder."

He suggested to be uncomfortable at my blunt words. He cleared his throat, cocking his head slightly, "Lucky for you, there'd been a ironic cereal killer patrolling London, killing the tourist. Mr. Heartly death was untimely, wrong place, wrong time. No question directing otherwise."

"And the agency?"

"They received the paperwork i sent later that day. Making Mr. Heartly trip to London a bitter farewell."

I could not argue with that. Mycroft successfully pulled off a murder. My murder. I still felt no remorse for what i had done. I could smile right now but that would be far from appropriate.

"As far as the agency is concerned you are exactly where you need to be. We no ever have to worry about them. You are an English citizen." He waved a smile to me, nudging his shoulder at me.

I flashed a fake smile. Creating a long pause between us. Awkward silence.

Then i dissolved that silence, "That wasn't the first murder you've got away with."

My words were threatening. I meant every word. What else did i have to lose? A trip back to Ashworth? That was nothing. I locked my eyes on him.

During my time in Ashworth i often got bored. Always looking for ways to entertain myself. Other than internet privileges and feeding my on going crave. I looked deeper into my mother murder case. Doctor Cyril was kind enough to give me some of her files. And as i scanned them very carefully... something did not add up. There were no witnesses. No one to say what kind of person my mother was. If she were in any danger. A point blank shot to the back of the head. Execution style. I was deprived of my chance to pledge for my mother's case. They dropped case as soon as i head to the UK. Would my testimony have mattered at all?

All of that pointed back to this very moment.

"It was _your_ mess i cleaned up Mr. Adler," He said sternly.

"You are the one who killed my mother."

"She asked me too Mr. Adler."

Mycroft was now the one for telling lies? He wasn't very good at it. I could clearly see through them like glass.

No one just asks to be killed. Especially have a child back at home. She would have been out of her mind.

"She had a living will." He added.

My confused face froze with the bitter cold air hitting us.

"Living well?"

"A couple years ago your mother reached out to me. She was diagnosed with a terminal illness."

_Terminal Illness - A disease that cannot be cured or adequately treated and that is reasonably expected to result in the death of the patient within a short period of time_

"...What kind?"

"Leukemia."

_Leukemia - A malignant progressive disease in which the bone marrow and other blood-forming organs produce increased numbers of immature or abnormal leukocytes._

My mother never told me she had leukemia. Nor did she ever show signs of having cancer. She hardly went to the doctor. She was always happy, energetic and full of life. A perfectly healthy mother at a young age. Then again i would have been too blind to see her suffering.

Another thing she lied to me about. Of course. Pity.

"Anyways, she was going to die. I for offered her to come to England to receive the highest medical treatment possible but she denied it. She thought she deserved it. But Irene didn't want to leave you behind so she requested, more like begged me to care for you after her death."

So no matter what i was bound to end up in England with Mycroft. My life had already been written before i lived it.

"She made one request," He sighed. Fogged mist fell from his mouth, "she wanted to die before the cancer got worse. Before you could notice."

A suicide based out from someone else's hands. Could you still call that murder when someone is legitly asking for it? Could you still call it suicide when someone else is putting the trigger?

"I kept an eye on you and her both for awhile, and when her cancer began to take a toll on her physical state, i fulfilled her request. Mr. Adler she did not want you to see her decay."

It made sense in the long run. I wouldn't have wanted to watch my own mother die. Her being murdered and the discovery of her old identity it saved a lot of questioning of police.

"My apologies Mr. Adler."

I nodded staring into the ground soaking in all this new information. My mother was a criminal, i didn't know. My mother and father see me as a mistake, i didn't know. My mother had cancer. _ . . _

"This living will?" I said nearly a whisper.

"Well, during your mother's time in England she had a lot of financial gain. Of course, more than half was illegally obtained. The rest is from life insurance policies. Have you ever heard the saying; "_If you owe the bank a thousand dollars the bank owns you. But when you owe the bank ten thousand dollars you own the bank_"?"

"No."

"That's how she seemed to get her money. Loans, debts and secretly saving. Do not worry i fixed it with the banks. You still are entitled to a massive amount of inheritance." He snorted. "This house you see behind us was her's as well."

That would explain why it looked old, abandoned and dead.

"All of it is yours."

I was taken back with those words. What was mine? The house? The money?

"What is?"

"The money and the house. It's all yours Mr. Adler."

"What am i going to do with..." I couldn't finish.

"Well i started remodeling inside already. Tomorrow the detectors will be here. Just let them do their jobs by the end of the month the house should be brand new." He patted my knee.

I was still trying to understand all of this. And Mycroft wonders why i have nervous breakdowns. He lays all this information out and throws me to the lions expecting to know what to do and how to react. My mother had a rather large sum of money just for me. To do what with? I don't know. And this huge, dark, scary house all for myself.

_This could be fun._

"Don't worry about cost. You have plenty to cover revisions. You will be quite okay for a _long_ time."

I signed with anxiety. I wasn't sure how to handle this. But i knew how to handle it in the most unmoved way possible. At least i wasn't homeless or broke.

"Mr. Adler what did you want to be growing up?"

His question was random, completely off topic. I wasn't in the mood for self reflection.

"I don't know. A video game creator."

"And what do you want to be now?"

I actually knew the answer to that. After my arrival to England i discovered a passion for the human body. How it functions on a daily basis. How far we actually can actually push ourselves. How little we actually use our sense, having over twenty-five of them. We only access 10% of our brain. But my greatest interest was the human body after it was no longer in use by it's owners. It had far more interesting stories to tell dead than alive. I wasn't sure where this passion came from, but i obsessed. Reading all the human anatomy books, thanatology studies and death cultural i could get my hands on. Be dissolved in the knowledge of it. Understanding the use of a body after death was fascinating, knowing how one died. Of course the body provided better evidence than the crime scene could have shown. The dead was my attention.

"Mortician."

I couldn't say he looked surprised but it probably wasn't the answer he was looking for.

"Really?" His face crinkled, "alright. You aren't going to stay home all day letting your talents go to waste. I've enrolled you into University. You start next semester."

My face probably froze with my reaction to Mycroft's words. I wasn't prepared for them in any way. I just got out of a mental institution and i was well on my way back to normal life like nothing had even happened.

"The least you could do is thank me." He seemed so calm.

"Thank you. But am i-"

"You'll be fine Mr. Adler."

I was just released from Ashworth, a mental hospital not even twenty-four hours ago and here i was discovering my riches, and my future. I was off already to become something of this disappointing self being.

The familiar silence fell back down onto us. Holding our tongues. My social strain was stronger than this silence.

"Mycroft, why are people calling me Adler. That's legally not my last name."

It seemed like good time to ask such a question. Ever since i met Mycroft and told him i prefered Adler it stuck. Everyone called me by that name. It wasn't even my legal last name. Davis.

"Yes it is."

"What?"

"Once you were admitted to Ashworth i had your last name changed to Adler. Just how you like it."

"Thank you."

I felt like i couldn't breathe for a moment. This was serious. Everything right here, in front of me was real. I was my own person. Going in the right direction of who i need to be. _Roman Adler, a young wealthy man going to college to become a mortician_. I like the sound of that.

"Since i wouldn't be around much anymore don't be barmy," He put empathizes on _barmy._ "Curiosity can get the best of a person," he looked at me with cold, dead eyes ,"You do not have permission to find Sherlock Holmes. If you go so much as the same street as him Mr. Adler i will forced to take you down."

I gulped at his words. "_forced to take you down._" I stood my emotionless face. He couldn't be serious. How would he know? It probably wasn't a good idea i try and find out. I had other things to do anyways. I would be soaking it up in riches no thanks to Sherlock Holmes.

I nodded.

"Lastly before i depart," He stood adjusting his tan bluky overcoat, "I've hired you a therapist, to help with your- ..._addiction_. I expect better from you Mr. Adler."

"Just because i choose venereal satisfaction over a illegal substance doesn't mean i need rehabilitation."

"Ah, well Sherlock has long to be so delinquent."

My escape wasn't anywhere near as lethal as my father's drug of choice. I was in no real danger, my life was filled with pleasurable experiences than a chasing treadmill workout with no results. I could get this drug at any time and everyone would be satisfied.

"I don't need a therapist."

His laugh made my twitch with annoyance. He wasn't hearing me out.

"Now, i must be going Mr. Adler. Please do enjoy your new home. Electric, water and heating have been recently activated, so enjoy. Cheers."

And just like that, always before i could say anything else he was gone. Turning his back on me. Walking away.

I must have sat on that old rigidity bench for more than a hour. Night time head fallen before i knew it. Mycroft disappeared like usual into the light. I was left alone outside, in the cold, left to fend for myself. I liked this new idea of being in control. I could do anything now and no one could tell me otherwise. I could go anywhere.

Freedom - the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint.

Ahh yes, my freedom.

With my freedom, that gave me the opportunity to release one anyone i wanted to. I have yet to feed it today. I was starving, itching, wanting my fix and with this new life. I could feed my addiction anywhere, anytime, anyway i wanted to. Brilliant. Instead of welcoming myself into my home. I choose to feed under the cold night sky.

-End.

_Well would just look at Roman! Moving up in the world! Like it? Let me know! :D Follow and favorite! You know you want too. Have any ideas on Roman's addiction? Oh you'll find out neck week: __**Chapter 11: The Shrink and The Treatment **__Roman's therapist finally shows and HOT DAMN there is going to be some smut. But will it last? Find out either This Monday, Thursday or next Monday I have decided yet! I need your guys support! _

_Sorry for errors . _

_About the story, i know it's not exciting or the normal Sherlock fan fiction but you need to understand if i was vocabulary enhanced enough and could think like Sherlock or even John that's what i'd be writing. I'm __**huge **__fan of Smut (sexualness) between them, it's all i read. Thank you guys xoxoxo_


	11. Chapter 11 The Therapist and The Treat

_Extended Fanfiction (Sherlock)_

_By: Colvin_

_February 24, 2015_

_**Disclosure**__: I own nothing of the original characters or events from the original Sherlock BBC Television show. Also, information on characters and their relationships with each other may differ with time, even their life span. I'm only writing from the data provided to me from season 1 - season 3._

_Little Summary: Roman's is starting to get conformable in his new home. But the weather is taking a tole on his hobby. The therapist finally comes and damn it something else. But will it last? _

_Sorry this is up a day late, went and watched the new Spongebob movie. It's trippy as fuck._

_**Fair Warning: **__This is my first time writing heterosexual smut...so yeah. Hope you like it. Viewers discretion is advised. :P some S&M._

**Chapter 11: The Shrink and The Treatment**

I kept the redecorating, remodeling, refurbishing, and whatever else to the professionals. My only request was to keep it simple, dark and a modern look. I stood by watching correcting if necessary. Being a guy stuff like this wasn't my thing so i'm even corrections weren't coordinated. But to help environment out a bit I had Solar Panels placed on the roof, why waste energy when you could save it?

This house was more space than i needed, ten bedrooms, seven bathrooms, a season room, a study/library, kitchen, dining room more sizable than needed, a living room twenty times bigger than my room at Mycroft's. I even had a indoor swimming pool. I don't even like swimming, or water. All this luxury was too much for me. I wasn't even sure what i'd do with it. Without my consent Mycroft even hired my very own maid, cook and butler. God damn.

During our clearance of my mother's home. Before they made the basement my playland they cleared out my mother's things. A Steinway Classical Piano, i had that placed in the dining room. Maybe someday i'd learn how to play it. Also, painting probably worth millions placed now around my house, and strangely enough multiple self portraits of my mother. I kept those down there, off away from my fun. I don't need nude paintings of my mother in my home. That's weird.

Alright, with money comes _great_ opportunity. Grandeur taste. In order to prepare myself for university i purchased every book i could possibly need from biology to psychology, everywhere between. Dissection kits of various kinds, proper tools need to do an autopsy. I had my basement turned into a Morgue. Holding an area for examination, embalming, and cremation. I took this idea of becoming a Mortician very serious. I was deeply interested in the art. I couldn't wait.

I started school in a couple months. Anticipation and curiosity destroyed every nerve in my body. I wanted to dive right in, skip the long lectures, Exams and midnight cramming. Move straight to making the Y incision, explode the art that is the body. How we grow, why we decay so rapidly after three days of passing. God, there just so much. I figured most vehicle deaths were internal, most rape victims demise rest under the skin, in rare cases a teenager or young adult dies unknowingly and it's the Mortician's job to figure that cause of death out. I want that title.

You can call it Clue twisted with operation.

…

School had just started for me in January. The weather was still cold, it snowed often so actually commuting to school was a challenge. Luckily, i restocked myself with homework, labs and experiments to keep me busy. Or i was searching for someone to share my release with. But even the weather took a toll on my ability to get my fix. People really don't like the snow i concurred. Even i didn't.

I'd been cooped up in this spacious house for five days now. London was hit with an arctic blizzard. School was canceled because no one could be present. When i went on the hunt, town was a ghost. I was starving, craving, like a caged animal. Five days without the proper fulfillment. Only substitutions and sleeping pills. If the weather did not clear up or i wasn't drowning in school work, entertaining my habits i was going to lose it. Madness. I love the cold but damn.

I don't remember the last time i slept, or at least slept in my own bed. It had to be four days now, this storm was sending my body into pure chaos. I stayed up reading, writing, just working. I needed to keep my mind off my shortage. I bet looked like a mess, not showered or shaved in probably three days, i have changed either. Same a white button up, nearly all untucked from my slacks. My hair was greasy, beyond a tangled mess. Damn.

I was having one of those moments where i knew i was dreaming but i don't know or remember what i'm dreaming about. It seems all black. Maybe a outline of a man, a kind smile. Bright blue eyes, his voice was silence because I wasn't comfortable enough to comprehend it. I must have fallen asleep at my desk again. There goes my back. Fuck. But who was this man? My father no.

It was fading.

"Mr. Adler."

A deep voice was calling my name. Why it the dream?

"Mr. Adler!"

I was able to hear the voice this time. I shot up from my deathly sleep in panic. Knocking water bottles over.

"WHAT!" I yelped.

In dismay i scanned around where the voice yelling from.

"You have a visitor."

It was my Butler Mycroft hired. You know, i really don't like the idea from having a Butler. Answering the door without my permission, inviting people in that i may not want to deal with. _Always_ being around. A bit annoying. Like a pet only worse. I paid him.

He stood there, hands behind his back, dressed in a hundred dollar black suit thanks to my money. His legs were taller than his midsection. A iris purple ore. Senior to Mycroft i wasn't sure about how he was able to do the job, he was almost seventy. His receded white hair pressed down ever so quaint to his head. His pale peach skin sagging around the mouth and teeth with his golden brown eyes. Never been married, no kids, good health, he was the ideal butler. Of course, he'd been a manservant for many, many years. Practically devoting his whole life to the fashion.

However, the porcelain figure standing next to him was divine. A female of such beauty in my room? Something must be off. Her face showed many layer of introversion. She felt and looked out of place. She had a dim tiger orange ore. Even though it was weak, i could see the passion in her ore. So sheepish, lax, calm. Her black hair was wore up in a ponytail. Her flawless face exposed. Black eyes, ghost skin. A mustard yellow women overcoats covered her body. I could see, her untouchable smooth lotioned legs and white high heels. She looked delightful. My, my.

I found myself lost in her image, my mouth gaped open like i'd never seen such beautiful in an asian woman like her. Superb, my dear.

"I'm sorry i'm late. The roads were atrocious." Her voice was high, but sweet pea.

I just stared at her. I wasn't expecting anyone. This must be Mycroft doings. But what was her purpose? Hopefully something fun. Maybe my frustration was being discharged.

"I'm Maia Lang." A stumbled towards me.

I was still sitting at my desk, papers scattered everywhere, even the floor. I was an utter mess, not suitable for her radiance.

The sound of her steps echoed from her heels. Each step pounding in my ears.

I stood immediately once she reached me. I held my hand out waiting to be greeted by her cold hands. And indeed they were cold, her small fingers could be broken so easily with compulsing heat flaming from my hands.

"Ma.. Roman Adler, Mr. Adler." My tongue was tripping over itself.

I was drooling. I couldn't help it, damn she was wanton.

I gestured for her take a seat, she complied maturely. I sat back down in my chair.

"Mr. Taylor bring some coffee. Black," I looked to Ms. Lang, "You want anything?"

"Uh….water would be nice." She hesitated.

Butler Taylor left to retrieve our wishes. I still, even after a couple months, wasn't use to the whole idea of having money whenever, having a house this size all to myself and people to do whatever i say. Spare the rod, spoil the child? I was no longer a child just a spoiled young man.

"So Roman do you know why i am here?" She removed her coat.

She was wearing a white silk dress, strapless. It revealed her shoulder, and neck and a little bit of cleavage. What a tease. What elegance. It brightened her orange ore. Maybe she was a service provider of some sort. I was more than game.

"It's Mr. Adler and no," I leaned back in my seat.

I had an idea.

_Young, about twenty four, single, no children, originally from China? No Korea. North Korea. The rest of the family still in North Korea. Her formality showed. Lived with distant relative, went to school, for what? White cloths, innocence. Soft features, caring person. A nurse? No, not the proper uniform. Tutor? No, not smart enough. Plus i was fine in school. Ah, caring, kind, strong voiced, very observant, a therapist. Wait, damnit. That's no fun._

"You're the therapist Mycroft informed me about. I remember now."

She nodded beginning to smile, "Yes."

I sighed out of boredom, "And i really thought you were going to be worth my time. My depression is mild, i can handle it. Anxiety levels are low, only spiked when dealing with aggravations such as this. My ability to understand and cope with my new surroundings is normal. Going from an asylum to this is a bit overwhelmed, lonely, but i'll deal. I'm sleeping fin-..." I stopped myself, my sleeping was off, "...I'm taking my medication when needed. Is that all you need? If so please don't hesitate to leave. No need to return either. I'm quite fine. Do me a favorite and tell Mycroft i don't need his "_help_"." I spun around in my chair away from her, gazing a look at my rather large collection of books on human anatomy and life after death.

"That's not why i'm here Mr. Adler."

"Then why are you here?"

"I'm here to help you with your addiction."

_Addiction - __A strong and harmful need to regularly have something _

I turned back around slowly, trying not to look too appealed.

"So, Mycroft sends someone like you?"

"Uh, yes?"

"I would expect someone _older_, more _experienced_. Someone _less_ tempting to come."

"I have experienced."

I gave a sarcastic snobby laugh, "In bed, maybe."

She looked insulted, i knew she was. Her attitude in vocals changed, stern and speak as-a-matter-of-fact like, "I can assure you Mr. Adler i know how to do my job. I'm just not use to doing it one on one. Forgive me. Mycroft insisted."

"Mhm," I mocked her, "As i said wasting my time."

She shifted in her chair, i could see her ore grow stronger. She was getting pissed.

"Mr. Adler are you aware you have a problem?"

How much more does she need to get the hint, i'm not interest in self reflection.

I ran my hand threw my hair, trying to untangle some of it "I don't call it an addiction, you do."

"What do you call it then?"

"A recreational activity." I smiled happy with my answer.

She was irritated by my sarcasm.

We stared at each other, observing each other, seeing through one's soul. But did she know i didn't carry a soul. Just a hollow shell of a breathing man.

Butler Taylor entered the room barring my requested coffee and Ms. Lang's glass of water, breaking the tension.

"Thank you Taylor."

He left silently afterwards. Closing the study room door.

I took a small drink of my coffee, giving a distasteful face afterwards. I hate coffee but with the lack of sleep, this is what kept me awake.

"I really hate coffee."

"Than why drink it?"

"It comes with the University package."

She smiled slightly at my humor. I was being serious though.

"You just started University right? How is that?"

"Fine."

"I went to school in Germany, it was a cultural experience. I even learned how to speak German. I'm not very good at it. Is it for you? A culture shock."

"Not really."

English schooling systems weren't so different from American. Sure, different ways of going about terminology, and grading scale but nothing i couldn't conform to.

"Since you are conscious of your addiction, don't you want help to recovery?"

"No."

"Why not? You don't have to be a _prisoner_ to this ongoing dependence?"

"I am no prisoner, Ms. Lang." I leaned forward in my seat.

"You may think you have control over it but in reality you just a pawn. It can moved you in any direction it wants to."

I took another regretful sip from my black coffee, taking in her words but really understanding them.

i stood up, striding over to her while talking, "Ms. Lang, many people who suffer from an addiction only cure themselves for the pure satisfaction of their loved ones. And i'm short on two of those things."

"What two things?"

"The capability to please people and having a real addiction."

"You do."

I leaned against my desk, folded my leg over the other, my arms across my chest. When i did that her ore's flame dimed greatly, providing a edgy look. I looked down at her. She was wonderful like that, below me. On the other hand, she peered to be uncomfortable with me staring down at her, making her feel less than me, she was inferior to me. I owned this room, every object inside of it, the priceless air she was breathing. The atmosphere was in my control.

"Y-you are too young to be suffering from a fixation like this, don't you think..? How was your c-childhood?" She was breaking under me.

"Fine." I was confident with my quick response.

"You mother, i know she pasted. -...I am sorry. But, was she a ...good mother?"

I rolled my eyes, and sighed. The classical form of therapy. Blame the parents.

"Did she have a lot of boyfriends? Did she drink a lot?"

I gave no response.

"Was she around often? Partaking in your educational practices and engaging in your life?"

Silence as she awaited my answer.

"Mr. Adler, this is confidential, you can tell me." She said under her eyelashes.

"No it's not."

"Did you have friends growing up? If so how many?"

I stared at her, cocking my head with every wasteful question. She was more attractive when she did not talk, not even understanding the hint that maybe i wanted her to shutup.

She continued to ask question after question while i grew tired of them, very fast. I didn't want her here in the first place. This questioning became very tedious.

I had awfully dull patients now a days.

"Mr. Adler i need your cooperation!" That high pitch voice squeaked from her belly.

How dare she be so ignorant to snap at me. That _won't_ do.

In a moments of anger i bent down and placed both my hands on the arms of her chair. Gawking intently down at her, dismembering her psychological mind set. I was so close, breathing my coffee scented breath down her pale neck into her white dress. Our faces only inches from touching.

"Ms. Lang, i'm a hands on kind of guy." My voice was hot, deep and threatening.

She looked carefully up at me, only from her lashes. Trying to glow innocent, and defenseless. She was only tempting me. I could ruin her in a blink of an eye.

"Do you want me to _show_ you why i _really_ enjoy my _so called addiction_?"

I don't think she knew how to react to that because she just glared at me, unsure what to think. Fear was flooding inside her. Heart beat speeding up, sweat glands unraveled, mouth dry, she spoke dry letters.

"-y..yes."

I held my hand up to her. She acknowledged my output, taking my hand. I helped her onto her shaking feet. We stood so close, the body heat clashing together. Her orange ore ringed around us. Breathing hastening to her. Her small size, only reaching my neck, my exhalation down to her porcelain face. She could psychically not look at me.

In a blink of an eye, even before i could notice what i was doing, i grabbed Ms. Lang's hips, pulling her around to the desk, lifting her up into it. Sitting her on top of my very important papers. She yelped at my movement, completely unprepared. However, she did not protest. I wasn't sure what i was doing. How far to go with this? I'd take it step by step. I ran my finger against her smooth, lustful legs, silken in lotion. The higher i got the hotter her legs were. My fingertips began to sweat when i arrived to her thighs. Oh my.

"Mr. Ad-"

I put my larger finger to her pink, puffy lips, "Unless you plan to ask me a question about my "_addiction_", do not speak." My fingers hopped down to her neck, gliding across collarbone, "And they better be worthy questions."

Her eye were weak, melting into my palms. A melting pot. It may have been her job to cure whatever problem i seemed to have in society, but at this moment she was very contradicting. Giving me exactly what made me a servant.

"This isn't a proper way of showing me your reasoning."

"That's not a question." I bit down on her neck, not hard enough to cause any actual damage just indents of my teeth.

Hand shot up into my greasy hair, pulling it. A whispered moan popping out of her.

"Why...why are you showing me -like this... Mr. Adler?"

I smiled. Moving myself in between her legs, as they spread open for me her dress crumpled up nearly exposing her. Lustful, she was.

"What better way to display than a hands on lesson."

"What... -are you going to..to do?" Her voice was shaky.

I shot my eyes to her, looking wantful, needy and aroused. I kissed her cheek lightly.

"After i'm finished you are going to be understand exactly _why_ i enjoy my hobby so much."

I deliberately avoided her question for i wasn't sure what i was going to do either.

My words made her squirm. She tried to shift positions but i was too close for her to move. She was stuck where i put her. Her cheeks were lovely shades of red now. Hot to the touch.

I traced figure eights between her tights, sliding in deeper with each closing circle. I watched her body tense, relax, tense, shake, twitch with my seeking touch. God, she was so beautiful unfolding before my eyes. Even though i was the client, my job was to open up to her. Instead, she was gaping herself just for me.

_Call me Doctor Psychologist Adler._

She was soaking, the silk of her panties were moist, lubrication. it's seemed from the very moment i laid a hand on her, she was liquidating. I thumbed the wetness as she slipped a moan from her beautiful mouth. My she was perfect.

"You can not tell me you don't want this," I licked her neck seductively, "And even if you did, your body says otherwise Ms. Lang."

I gave a half sexual smile at her, my fingers began removing her panties from her minutiae waist, down her plump thighs, and falling off her bony ankles onto my floor. They were pink silk lace lingerie.

She appeared to be shocked, but she did nothing to show she was uncomfortable. She just put her hand around my neck.

"How often do you feed you need?" She asked huffing.

"As often as i need. Sometimes just once a day others can take up to three to five times before i've had my fill." i said biting her neck, pushing up her dress even more.

I lifted her up just enough to pull her dress above the waistline. There i uncovered her genitals. She was cleanly shaved, waxed maybe? How inviting. I groped her tightly letting my fingers collapse between her labia, cupping her clitoris. Going in a circular motion she tensed up, pushing her legs against mine hard. I did not stop, in fact i moved my fingers quicker. She was so wet, what a slut.

She moaned in my ear, she was practically begging for more. Her hands around my neck pulling me closer to her i slid my finger inside her, so warm, dank, and sticky. She devoured me.

"You're so wet."

I spurred my pace up. Thrusting my finger in, out, in her. She pulled my hair, trying to pull me in deeper, greatly slut.

"How does it feel?" I whispered.

I wrapped my other hand around her lower back and pulled her out more, sinking my fingers deeper inside her.

"...oh. Great." She could barely speak.

"It feel more than great Ms. Lang, it feel unexplainable. All you can do is want more, and more because it _so_ good. "

She loved every word that came out of my mouth while her stayed wide open, wanting to speak but no words were audible.

I slipped another finger inside deep as i could, thrusting, fucking her sweet, sweet vagina. I couldn't wait to really be in her.

"What's you favorite part?" She voice was more of raspy moans than full syllables.

But oh how i enjoyed that questioned. I would have such joy answering that, "The part where i fuck the humanity out of you." My tongue started at her cleavage all the way up to her chin. She threw her head back in hopeless pleasure.

I removed my fingers, she clenched tight, trying to stop my fingers but i was stronger. She cried out.

I fiddled around with my belt, damn why is it so hard to unfasten? My hands weren't even trembling. I just had wet fingers from Ms. Lang. Eventually my belt gave in, the sound of my zipper rushed in her ears.

"Wait," She stopped, "protection?"

Right. Through all this pleasure she was still smart enough to protect us both. I wasn't about to pull a dumb move like my father. Mistake number two would not exist while i had a say. Mycroft would kill me. Plus. i hardly knew her. Then again, i hardly know my victims period.

"In my desk. Top drawer, to the right." I instructed her.

She followed my order perfectly, finding what we needed in a second. I took the condom from her, ripped it open and rolled it on me.

"Go slow." She said looking at me.

I smiled evilly, "Don't tell me what to do."

I pulled her forwards quickly. She was inches from falling off my desk. Hovering above my dick. I aligned myself fully to her. My tip brushed against her clitoris. She moan out, pulling my hair. I entered her. I watched her head go back, her back arch up and her legs wrapped around my thighs. Christ she was amazing.

I moved slow in her, teasing her. Teasing myself. She felt amazing, so warm, wet and tight. God. I continued to thrust in her, speeding up to increase the volume of her moaning. So loud, she called my formal name, "Ah... Mr. Adler." She knew better to call me Roman. I grabbed her hips and continued to roll in, out, in, out- fast, slow down, speed up. She reacted wholly to my movements.

"See," I started, my breath labored, "You think i have a problem. But Ms. Lang you seemed to be enjoying this more than i. Just because i request this power more than the average person does not not mean i am addicted," I pushed her back onto her elbows.

Her eyes were close, enclosed in with pleasure and caught up with this moment. Her moaning was loud enough i'm sure anyone could hear, i didn't care and i guess she didn't either. Slutty she was a slut.

She was powerless to argue you with me. I was so deep in her, fucking her senselessly. My cock was filling her up, slamming into her viginual walls. My thrusting was violent, merciless are her cried out.

"To.. much of a good thing- is a bad...thing Mr. Adler. Ah.." Her seductive eyes were talking clearly than her mouth.

"That can debated." I slammed hard into her a couple times, punishments.

I bend down putting my body weight on her, this slowed her breathing. A pleasurable experience if handled correctly. I pulled down her dress, pentably size breast fell out and began to bounce with my movement. Oh fuck. I grabbed the handful i could manage, squeezing them tightly. She gasped out of a groan. I used her breast as my grip and pounded her vigina hard, barbariously.

"Oh!" She called out.

She looked so tasty i could just fuck her all day. Her body gave to me so easy. What a whore.

"What am i addicted to?" I demanded an answer quickly.

She couldn't speak, hard make words. But the unforgiving slams i punished her with make it unfold out her dirty mouth, "Sexual pleasure!"

Fuck. Just the words i need I was moments from losing control, and so was she. I kept my beating pace. "I need this..." I could barely finished my thought before the orgasm came crashing through me. I lost all control emptying myself into the thin lined rubber that separated us.

We stayed silent for a moment. All that was to be heard, the huffing, laboring breathing coming from us. I wrecked her.

I pulled out, removed the condom and threw it in the trash can beside my desk. I tucked myself away and stepped back from Ms. Lang. Letting her collect, compose and frankly, to get off my desk.

Her legs were jello, hard for her to stand so i held her up to gain her balance. She adjusted her dress back to normal.

I returned back behind my dress and took a seat. I pretend to review the papers before me. Really i couldn't focus.

"Be sure to close the door behind you." I said not looking at her.

I could tell she was offended, rushing her out of my sight after just finishing fucking. I didn't care. She was staring at me. Waiting for me, to say i was joking. I wasn't.

I watched her only for a second put on her mustard color overcoat and gather her things.

"I'll be back next week. Thursday around five."

I gave no reply.

"Goodbye Mr. Adler."

"Goodbye." I waved her on.

Once she was gone behind the doors. I got back up and walked around the study. Thinking about what had just happened. Her goal as the therapist is to some how make me see and feel like a terrible person. And that my behavior unacceptable. But just with what had just went down, i'm thinking she wasn't trying to cure me, perhaps a form of treatment? Fantastic.

Her panties were still lying on the floor next to my desk. I picked me up, studying them.

_She forgot them on accident? I don't think so, purposely. For what? A reason to come back? No, she was coming back anyways. Ahh. It's a souvenir, how delightful. _

I smiled tastefully.

…

Ms. Lang did return the said date and many Thursdays after. I'd have to guess about two or three months passed. We had our regular session. She'd come about five, we only talk for a second before i was pinning her down on my desk, the wall or floors, we were like animals. Constantly fucking, hot, sweaty, violent fuckings. Each time were loud, deep, and aggressive, by the end of it i bared her nails mark on my chest and back. And she, painful hickeys on numerous parts of her body and inability to walk up right. God damn, we never failed to bring her best. It was astounding.

Sometimes on Thursdays when i was running late due to mountains of assignments from University or cramped traffic. Ms. Lang would be there waiting for me. She would either be sitting in my chair, going through my files. Solemnly because she wanted punish for it. Or i'd find her completely naked, rubbing her sweet smell all over my things. On rare occasions, and honestly my favorite times i'd find her playing with herself. Using the various toys i'd leave in my desk. They aren't really meant for her but i'd made sure they were always clean. This idea of treating me was so exciting.

I liked trying new things each week.

Wistfully though, her words "_You are just a pawn to this addiction._" did happen to stick with me. I liked to think i was in total control on myself, and my body but sometimes that was never the case. I'd get lost in pleasure and fixation i would lose who i enteral was. Lost in the pain of pleasure. I was a slave, to this hobby i crave and maybe i was okay with that. A mess.

I was in control.

…

Today was Thursday and of course i was running late. Not by much just fifteen minutes. I darted passed people, moving cars and busy streets. Spring was just around the corner so more people were out and about enjoying the weather. While i just wanted to get home to Ms. Lang for our weekly sessions.

I ripped through my front door, discarding my coat. The began to loosen up my tie.

I opened my door to my study.

"Sorry i'm late. Hope you haven't started without me." I laughed.

My eyes scanned the room. Something wasn't right about this atmosphere.

Ms. Lang sat in the chair where i first met her, right in front of my desk. Her head in her hands i could hear her crying. Sobbing graphically.

"What's wrong?" I grew panicked.

From the corner of my eye i saw my chair move. When i focused myself on it, the chair completely turned. Mycroft was in my chair, drinking a scotch. Carrying a ashamed, uncomfortable and disappointed look in his eyes.

"Just on time Ms. Adler."

"What are you doing here? Why is Ms. Lang crying?"

He glanced over to her for a minute then back on me. She was still crying. Not speaking.

"You haven't improved," Mycroft stood up, strolling around my desk beside Ms. Lang, "You've gotten worse actually. It seems Ms. Lang can't be helping much either." He placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked scared as she jumped with the contact.

I glared him.

"Ms. Lang is being sent back to Korea."

"That's not fair!" I commanded.

"You have abused my services!"

"Why is she going back to Korea?" I pointed to Ms. Lang.

"Her job is help you overcome your...strange addiction. NOT fuel it. It's a complete contradiction to her title Ms. Adler."

"How'd you find out?"

"Her reports were weak," He sighed "and the volume you two produced...how did you not expect Mr. Taylor or Miss Kate to hear?"

"That's bullshit."

He blinked rapidly at my attitude, protest and being pissed off. Maybe he did not understand.

I didn't understand why i was upset either. I wasn't in need of therapy for my "_problem_". I didn't need Ms. Lang. But her performance and services to me were grand. And for all of this to end with her being shipped back to Korea, that wasn't fair.

"Say goodbye, Ms. Lang," Mycroft spoke.

Ms. Lang gathered herself together physically and emotionally. She wiped tears from her eyes, put her mustard colored coat on and threw her purse over her shoulder. She stood before me. I felt her hand glide up to my cheek. She was so helplessly broke.

"Goodbye Mr. Adler." Her breaking voice muttered.

Her fingers slipped away from my stubble face. I was felt with nothing but soft air she made once she passed me. She was gone.

Mycroft was watching our department. He seemed unmoved, annoyed just a bit.

I stood there, mind blank from her last touch. The very last touch of Ms. Maia Lang with the tiger orange ore. I was vaguely remembering our first time appointment. She asked me what my favorite part was and i replied with a hormonal answer. But that wasn't the truth.

My _real_ favorite part was watching her leave. And knowing now she was leaving and never coming back was my favoritest part of all.

Mycroft began to walk away from me. Passing me he stopped to say some emotional words i should took my partake in feeling.

"Your addiction is beyond my help Roman."

He left. He was gone too.

I was alone.

-End

_Well...i hope you aren't feeling like "what the fuck did i just read" or "well that escalated quickly". You have no idea how i felt writing this. Google is a savior. I don't know shit about the female anatomy. After writing i needed to lay down and rethink my life. Hahaha. Anyways! What'd you think? Favorite, review, ect. Please. Ms. Lang may not have lasted long in Roman's life but her presence makes a impact on Roman forever. And after she's gone he begin to fall apart. Find out more next Monday (going back to normal update time) __**Chapter 12: The Pharmaceuticals and The Friend. **__The title itself is kinda explanatory. Roman makes a friend:D Who's name is rather ironic and i didn't know just how ironic until i finished writing it. Lastly, there's been another time change. All this and more Monday. _

_About the story, i know it's not exciting or the normal Sherlock fan fiction but you need to understand if i was vocabulary enhanced enough and could think like Sherlock or even John that's what i'd be writing. I'm __**huge **__fan of Smut (sexualness) between them, it's all i read. Thank you guys xoxoxo_


	12. Chapter 12 The Pharma and The Friend

_Extended Fanfiction (Sherlock)_

_By: Colvin_

_March 2, 2015 _

_**Disclosure**__: I own nothing of the original characters or events from the original Sherlock BBC Television show. Also, information on characters and their relationships with each other may differ with time, even their life span. I'm only writing from the data provided to me from season 1 - season 3._

_Little Summary: Alright, another time jump. After Ms. Lang's departure it's been two years. Roman's finishing up his third year of university. He's a made a friend! His name is oddly ironic, if you catch the irony you are awesome xD If not, it's okay. I didn't realize it until i finished this chapter. Haha but be expecting drugs, drinking, partying AND a BOYXBOY kissing. Lastly, Roman decides to break into his mother's room! OHHH what will he find!? _

**Dark printed** words mean text messages. Example:** -RA** are initials just so you know who's talking.

**Chapter 12: The Pharmaceuticals and The Friend. **

I knew i'd miss Ms. Lang. Of course. Who wouldn't miss that body? And the way her body moved when we fornicated, unforgettable. But the way i missed her was different. I would spend days on end trying to figure out why i felt this. Some theories i produced was; she was just so damn good at giving me what i needed. Or that she was consistent, unlike most of the people i slept with. The one night stands. With her, i saw her once a week. Thursdays, not that i wanted to but I really couldn't avoid her. Or even, maybe she was just someone to come home to. Someone who looked forward to seeing me. Although only seeing her once a week, i was always excited to see her when i did. She made me feel wanted, special in some awkward world i felt she understood me. She knew how i was felt based on my performance. Bad days equaled mean, merciless sex. Good day, well were good. She also knew what i was thinking without me speaking a letter. She "_got_" me. Ms. Lang made me see things in myself, learn about them and understand them. She was a good therapist. I just wish Mycroft could have saw that.

It was a pathetic thing to think of. I was missing her only because she gave me purpose. I tried to convince myself i maybe even had an emotional connection AKA feelings for her before i thought of desiring her need to want me. Pathetic.

And now, i was alone. Mycroft did not hire another therapist for me. No one ever came to the house either. Only the local paperboy or a delivery man (heartbreaking enough when he stopped by to deliver a package, _that _was the highlight of my day). I was a pitiful. Mycroft himself stopped coming around. Instead he'd send Anthea over to check on me and to see if i needed anything. She wasn't any fun herself since she kept herself to that damn phone and rarely she'd bring Adalynn with her. I guess seeing Adalynn was better than nothing. She was a lot bigger now. I think nine years old.

Even with Butler Taylor, the Maid Kate and my Cook Grace i felt alone. I stayed indoor. I had no reason to be outside in the first place other than School. Complete antisocial.

I'm going crazy.

I wasn't going crazy because lack of human communication and connection, fuck no. I was going crazy from this boredom. Since Ms. Lang was now gone my life had nothing interesting inside it. Damn, i missed her. I'm going insane trying to look for something even close to what her and i had. I was chasing what every addict was. The unquenchable high. Maybe i was seriously addicted. Withdrawals, raging and sulking over her absence. I'd more than well put myself in danger to try and feel the chemicals i felt in her. No matter who i chose, how i did it, when and where i felt all the same, unsatisfied. I wanted more, and more and more.

_Oh god. She was right. I'm just a fucking pawn. Chasing this feeling like a dog chasing it's tail. _

…

I couldn't believe it. Two years had gone by and i was still stuck in too many yesterdays. A whole two years i felt i wasn't part of. Just in the background of time. It'd forgotten about me. I'd even possibly forgot about it. I was still thinking about Ms. Lang often. But i knew i could do nothing to fix it. No one was good enough, not like her. I'd given up on the idea.

The hungry needs got worse before they got better. I exhausted my body to the point of involuntary shut down. I was a danger to myself. Willing to do almost anything to feel something. Totally losing who i was just for a hit of the drug. Who was i anymore but a walking zombie? Always hungry, always lingering, numb. I was tired of feeling numb. Three years of nothing but white walls in my head and emotionless opinionated actions. I loved the feeling of being in numb in the beginning. I wasn't going to get hurt. Now, i craved it. That high point of a orgasmic induce just wasn't abundant. Not even close. I needed _real_ pain. Pleasure and pain.

I was close to finishing my third year of University. Thus meaning after spring break, summer was to come. I hated the summer. It was always so hot, uncomfortable and forced me to dress in anything less than a button-downs and slacks. Displeasing. I did not enjoy the summer sun, or the advancement of more people out. More people to possibly help with my addiction. Instead, i stayed at home in my basement, (the morgue) keeping the temperature at 30 degrees Fahrenheit. It was just an excuse to dress in my heavier clothes.

I often did summer classes, or tried. My acceptance was never for sure. There wasn't much to do at home. Watching the Telly gave me a headache, reading and writing about anything turned into nothing quick. And that became boring. God i was bored. I practiced dissecting on frogs, rats, and even baby piglets. But what i really wanted was to practice on a human. Something real. According to University i'd have to wait until fourth year before i was advanced enough for that. My patients were getting very thin with each passing moment.

During my time, near the end of my third year i made, a _friend_? Hardly, more of a acquaintance. His name was Trevor. He was the same year as me. He happen to be in my Thanatology class. It wasn't ironic since it was a general class everyone had to take in the medical field. He was studying to become a Cardiologist. Trevor was a nice guy, he sat by me. Sometimes even talked to me. But he mainly cheated off me on test. Trevor was enjoyable to be around, he always had interesting stories to tell of his time of living in India, Brazil, Japan and even New York with his father and mother. He came from, not money, but gold. Maybe even more than Mycroft. I was always curious as to why he chose this school out of like _Yale_, or _Harvard_. Surprisingly, the more i got to know him; inviting me to lunch, studying in the library and going to a couple parties (i never went though), i soon found out why he chose a low pressured school for his stressful career choice. Trevor Gallagher loved drugs. Any drug would do. Narcotics, injections, inhalations, snoring he was game. Aside from bragging about his money he shamelessly flaunted about his drug use.

Out of all the people Trevor could have been…"friends" with, did i dare use that word? Anyhow, he chose me. He'd _always_ sat by me, _always_ trying to involve me in things. _Always _trying to make me laugh. Which was a hard thing to do. _Always_. He even came over to my place once, drunk all my liquor and passed out in my bathroom floor. He was a reckless child. So self destructive, acting like everything was okay and he had it under control. When he and i both knew he didn't. Maybe that's why i stuck around him, put up with him. I was just like him a backward sense.

…

Spring break.

It was spring now. Everyone was packing up to go to beaches or other countries. Just some time away from school. Not me. I stayed home, away from people, the sun and living. I was better off when school was in session. Less of a risk. Less time to be dumb.

My phone buzzed.

Now, i wasn't much for communicational devices. Anthea gave them a bad name. The ability to become so dissolved into a 7in by 4in screen was tragic to watch. I just kept a cell phone for the simple fact of texting. Texting was an amazing thing. No need to actually use vocals to speak. Your instant messages to each other was enough. Plus, some of the professors assigned homework that way. I needed it.

**Party tonight at Amy's tonight. You coming? -TG**

**No. -RA**

**Too bad. -TG**

I stared at my phone very confused. "_too bad_"? What did that mean?

Before i had anytime to reaction or think about it Trevor was busting down my door to my study room. I was typing a paper that wasn't due until spring break was over.

"Come one man! You're going to that party." He said hustling over to me.

"Why?"

"Why? Why the fuck not!" He threw his hands up.

"I have better things to do."

I went to turn my chair away from him but he grabbed it, spinning me around forcefully to him. "Unless you have some of hot strippers coming to fuck you. I don't think you have anything better to do Adler!"

I stared at him from under my hair.

"Come one man! Live a little! Free drinks, horny girls rubbing up on your dick. You can't tell me that doesn't sound like fun."

Oh God! He was right. Damn him.

"Fine." I mumbled under my breath.

He jerked me from my seat by the hand and we dashed out the door.

The music, lights and people's voices were blasting from the house with a huge lake. It was only 10pm and some people already looked shit-faced. There were more girls their than guys. Looked more like a slumber party than a regular party. Trevor and i made our way past the bumping and grinding plastic plastered people. The air was hot, clustered and filled with sexual tension. God, so fucking tempting.

We found ourselves at the table where all the alcoholic drinks sitting. Trevor poured some in a red solo cup and handled it to me. Dropping a pill inside it.

"What is that?" I asked.

It began to fizzle.

"Fun."

"I'm serious."

"I know man, you are always so serious! Relax and have fun!" He chanted.

He threw his arms around me, moving me towards the party. Pushing me from my comfort zone. Not even a couple steps in some random girl was rubbing up on me. Fuck.

I'm not sure how i got _that_ drunk. I don't remember drinking anything more than what Trevor gave me inside that red cup. What was the white pill he dropped inside it? My mind was scattered. When i tried to look at people's ore's i was dizzy by their new strobe light form. I wasn't sure if my senses were fucked up because i was drunk, or because everyone around me was drunk. More than drunk than me. My head was spinning. I felt, fuzzy. Warm. Really hot, even sweating possibly. My vision was blotchy, utterly disordered. I felt tingles when i touched people. Strangely enough, i had a very uncomfortable erection i couldn't shake off. It just kept throbbing, pulsing. _Ugh_, it was driving me crazy. What it the alcohol? The pill Trevor gave me? I wasn't sure anymore. I need to release soon or i was going to explode.

I felt someone grab my collar while i was making my way around people. It was time to go home. But instead, I was being drug away from my improvement and slammed down on a couch. A bunch of people crowded around me. Staring down at me with smug drunk smiles on their faces. I knew they were talking but i couldn't understand what they were saying. The girls were laughing, tripping each others and sounding like high pitched screams. More skin than necessary showing. The guy fondled the wasted girls and paid no attention to me.

"I'll pay you twenty bucks to make out with your friend Silence over there." A female voice giggled.

My head was spinning too many voices.

"Twenty bucks? Alright!" It was Trevor talking. His voice was so uniquely deep, yet scratchy. I finally found Trevor. He was sitting beside me, absolutely, r_eally_ drunk. He was smiling at me, trying not to laugh. Plastered bastard.

"You ready man? Twenty buck." He said shrugging.

I just stared at him. I was hearing what he said but as far as understanding it? No. Twenty bucks, what? Ready for what? There were too many people around to get anything.

He leaned in to me. I could feel his body heat rising, crashing over me. He was closing in on me. Oh god what am i going to do? What do i do?

Just go with it.

Honestly, i wasn't one for kissing. I felt kissing, touching one human's mouth with my own was unapealing and had more value than tease. The chemistry behind was very complex, the hormones being released just from that soft, mushy touch. Too much. Kissing always had meaning behind it. Sentimental meaning i wasn't emotionally stable, able to deal with.

Oh shit his lips touched mine. They were terribly soft, with just the right shape. They caressed mine gently, even with his drunken state is touch was fleecy. He placed a hand on my right cheek and fell more into the kiss. And before i knew it, i was kissing back. It was the alcohol talking, not me. I couldn't do this sober. Kissing just wasn't my cup of tea. Trevor made it very hard to resist though. His plump, pink lips hugging mine in a drunken slur. It was charming. he moved his lips just right to make me fall into it even more. Soon, his tongue slipped into my mouth without my approval. Oh god. His tongue was hot, tasting like some fruity drink, a cocktail? Maybe. His silva was now getting in my mouth, mixing with my confused taste buds. i had this odd tang in my mouth and now it being mixed with Trevor's mellow silvia was over stimulating. I couldn't help but want more of it. Damn, he was good. But hell, he was good at everything.

I don't know how long we were kissing, i was lost in the feeling and the smack of it. I was glad i was drunk, it felt good to know i was sober, not responsible for my actions. Trevor pulled away. Dizzy, dazed and sad about his depart i nearly fell on top of him.

"Pay up!" Trevor shouted laughing.

Everyone was laugh, talking, screaming at each other because of the loud music. While i sat there silent, unsure what was going on. Drunk on Trevor's kiss.

"Come one Adler." He grabbed my arm and pulled me from the couch. Dragging me away from the crowd of drunk young adults.

Trevor Gallagher just made out with me for twenty bucks. Money he more than enough did not need. It had to be a alcohol talking.

...

The next morning, i woke up outside in a lawn chair with a random girl straddled around my neck. I can't remember who she was or how she came to sleeping on me. Her hair was short, pixie cut it had a funky purple dye to it, she was small, very skinny, dark skinned for her age, which i hoped was over eighteen, just in case. She smelt like cigarettes and weed. I was playing a game of how to get her off me, and not wake her up. But quickly, my patients was running thin, i was about to kick her off me. My head was beginning to throbbing into an agonizing pain. I felt sick. The hangover way setting in.

From the corner of my eye i see Trevor. He swung is weight around trying to look for me i assumed. He wasn't wear a shirt, exposing a perfect six pack and his black hair was a mess. Once he found me he struggled to come over, hopping over hung over bodies, empty cups and bottles.

"We need to go!" He whispered.

I looked to the girl laying on top of me.

"Oh shit man," he grabbing her waist. Peeling her up off me.

I shot up, nearly falling back over. The blood was rushing through my body. My heartbeat was pounding in my ears. Everything was spinning, shaking, tilting. Oh lord. My eyes watered. I was going to be sick.

"I gotta be home in fifteen minutes or my parents are going to kill me!"

We began our adventure back to home. I left the girl with purple hair laying, dead asleep in the lawn chair. I still can't remember who she was or how we met.

…

After that party, crazy, wild and intimate party Trevor and i hung out A LOT. Every day. More like he came to the house, got drunk and played with my morgue equipment. He pretended to be mortician cutting up dead bodies. Adding some sexual foreplay into his comedic ignorance. He was an interesting person to watch. He always gave me something to look at.

Or sometimes, we'd go out to bars, clubs or parties. Flirt with random people. "Getting laid", drink until we couldn't form words anymore. I could honestly say when i was around Trevor, i felt happy, free and always having fun. Trevor was maybe, my friend. My _best friend_. The one ever.

The kiss.

Of course, i knew all it ever could be was friends. Because once we returned to school from Spring Break he made it clear to me was not gay and made sure i wasn't. The kiss was just a drunk party game. But why? Trevor didn't need the twenty bucks and he really seemed to like the kiss just like me...Maybe he was denial of his preference.

I was offended that having a friend was defined by sexuality, so I just told him i was asexual. It was my only choice since he found it odd i never dated. Orientation was never really a concern to me until now. Trevor often bullied young University boys for being homosexual. Calling them fags, queers, fairies and probably worse. Shame, he was such an ugly person on the inside. But so much like me. With his recklessness behavior, free spirited personality, adrenaline junky, and awfully mean sense of humor. He reflected the most terrible person in me.

Trevor Gallagher was a horrible person, and he made a monster out of me.

Trevor's favorite kind of high? The high he got from snorting cocaine. Something about the white nirvana gave him a addicting satisfaction. He would have a stupid smile on his face for hours. He had so much energy i could never keep up with him. He was fast with words, movements and ideas of how to entertain us. I could only image what he was feeling on the inside personally. However, i knew how he felt on the outside. His body clearly showed it. Increase heart rate, blood pressure, sweating, itchy and dilated pupils. He was a tornado.

I never knew how he felt until i tried it myself. He made it look fun and a experience that you'd never forget. And i was all about experiences. Once i hit that white line there was no going back. The burning sensation in my nose made me feel weak at first. I couldn't stand. Then once it entered into my system i was, perhaps a new man. I could feel the effects discover my body. My heart rate increased. My mind was racing yet my senses were going crazy steady. I could hear voices clearly twenty inches from me. Everyone's ore shinned blindly in my eyes, then they dim, and shine again. Like a flame. People were easier to read. I wanted to run, scream as loud as i could. I felt great. Truthfully i'd never felt better. Not a care or worry just Trevor and i, this white line of Cocaine to guide us. Maybe this was my favorite new drug too. I felt great for once in my shitty life.

…

I have been living in this house for over two years now and i never have been inside my own mother's room. This house was mine now, she had no right to privacy. She was dead for fucks sakes. None of the keys that came with the house opened the door. At first i didn't let it bother me. The less lies i knew about my mother's the less shame, disappointment, and hatred i carried towards her. By now though after doing a line of coke i was damned if i did not get that door down. I was tired of being locked out of proportions of my her life.

I stormed upstairs, nearly tripping. I stumbled down the hallway. Her black door at the end of the hallway. Mimicking me. I was going to get it open if it killed me.

"Taylor!" I screamed.

Before i knew it he was behind me. That's one thing i hated about Butler Taylor. He was _always_ there when i needed him, right there. It was kinda nerve wrecking, him watching me like a hawk.

"Yes, Mr. Adler?" His charming voice spoke.

I jumped at his quick arrival.

"I want this door down." I said licking my lips, pointing at the door.

"I'll get someone to come open it tomorrow sir."

"No, i want it now."

He seemed unmoved at my demand. I wanted it down now. Not tomorrow, now.

"Get me the axe from the shed." I shooed him him.

"But Sir..."

"Now, Taylor."

"Sir. You'll get hurt." Taylor said sympathetically.

"NOW!" I barked.

He disappeared from my sight. To hopefully, no, he _better_ return with my request.

I stared at the door before me. I had no idea on what was on the other side. But from the past three years it seems my mother had some pretty interesting secrets. I wonder what kind of secret could be on the other side.

Taylor returned holding the axe. His face worried as he approached me. Not offering the weapon.

"Mr. Adler i can have the door open by tomorrow morning." He pleaded, "no need to vandalize your mother's property."

I laughed and took the weapon from him, "My mother's property? She's dead Taylor! It's _my_ property now and i'll do what i please with it."

He stood close enough to get hurt. He had to go.

"Move." I said directing him with the axe.

He regretfully moved to the side. Letting me take the first swing at the black door.

It definitely was the cocaine moving as the hit the door mercilessly. I don't where else i was obtaining my energy but from the drug. I swung maliciously, dangerously. I was lost in myself in this cocaine high and the wonderful release i was feeling.

There was a gaping hole in the door. I reached inside and unlocked the door. It opened with a loud squeak following it. I stepped inside, revealing a bright blinding, glowing white mixed with kicked up dust.

I could not believe what i was barely seeing.

-End.

WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT? find out next Monday! Trevor Gallagher is Roman's friend in University. Victor Trevor was Sherlock's friend (unsure when and for how long) Coincidence? I THINK NOT. Actually, it probably is. Trevor isn't the best influence on Roman as you can see. He doing coke now for the fuck of God! First like mommy, now daddy? Hot damn. But check in Monday to find out what Roman finds! **Chapter 13: The Leather Words and The Suicide. **The name itself sounds promising right? A lot of vandalizing and emotions. And a suicide? Oh my. All this any waayyy more Monday! Love you guys! Review, follow, favorite please :D I LOVE the support.

_About the story, i know it's not exciting or the normal Sherlock fan fiction but you need to understand if i was vocabulary enhanced enough and could think like Sherlock or even John that's what i'd be writing. I'm __**huge **__fan of Smut (sexualness) between them, it's all i read. Thank you guys xoxoxo_


	13. Chapter 13 The Words and The Suicide

_Extended Fanfiction (Sherlock)_

_By: Colvin_

_March 9, 2015_

_**Disclosure**__: I own nothing of the original characters or events from the original Sherlock BBC Television show. Also, information on characters and their relationships with each other may differ with time, even their life span. I'm only writing from the data provided to me from season 1 - season 3._

_Littler Summary: So Roman has broken into his mother's room. What shall he find? Let's just say we got some tears, some anger, some murder plotting, some feels ect. Then a suicide? Oh my! Who could it be? Forgive me now for my limited knowledge of things and stuff. Enjoy~ !Also i got a new laptop and i'm not too good with it so bare with me on errors and shit!_

**Chapter 13: The Leather Words and The Suicide**

The thick dusty air seeped into my lung, forcing me to cough uncontrollably. My eyes were on fire from the garnished white glowing in the deepest part of me. It's been maybe twenty years since this room was last open. The dust was thicker than the air.

I rubbed my eyes to the point of near tears before i could see again. The walls, white. All ten windows lacking a curtain clearly shining white from the upcoming summer sun. Surprisingly the room was rather cold. A shifting breeze in the levitating air. Queen sized bed covered in discolored white cotton sheets. God, it reminded me of Mr. Heartly guest bed room. Until i looked up. A portrait of my mother hung. She was nude. Dammit Irene. Although, her body looked beautiful, laying perfectly across a black leather couch. Her blue eyes look directly at me. While her, rich in color hair pinned into a 1930's style. She was graceful, but _really _naked.

I shifted my eyes to dissolve the image of her. I looked around noticing nothing but empty space. It didn't look like a room my mother would sleep in. So plain and bright. A fire place at the other end of the room, by the door. It still had ashes from it's last use. Twenty years since this room was last used. _Twenty_. Everything was still in good shape besides the layers of dust and temperature having some effect on things.

A closet sat in another corner. I don't what made my feet begin to hurtle to it. It was too late to not open it. Far too late. My hand had already unconsciously twisting the doorknob. When it was open to me motion censored lights strained to turn on. One by one the closet lite up. Revealing two direct lining of clothing. To the left, bright vibrate colors. Pricey clothes by the looked of it. A woman's choice. Dresses, fluffy tops, heels and jewelry to match. And to my left, nothing but black for as long as i could see. I stepped inside her realm. Did i really want to know? I glanced back and forth at variety of clothing before me. Mainly paying attention to the black side. Everything felt like leather and lace. I stopped, taking one of the outfit of the right side out from the group. I held it adhered. The leather was still shining like brand new. It was just a simple leather tight top with matching bottoms. Like… a bikini. I stared at it. Piecing all this together, seconds later I knew exactly what i was holding.

I smiled deviant, "You've been a _bad _girl, mother."

Dominatrix. Detective Clint's words finally made sense. This, this was what she meant by "_dirty work_". Dominatrix's on average can make more money than the a congressman, if the job is done right. My mother obtained her money from authority, respect and at most discipline. What a intelligent women because by the looks of it she knew how to play the game, and well. As Mycroft told me; "_she was only the only women to bring a nation to it's knees_". Damn was he right. But it only took one man to do the same to her. The same man who created me. All in the name of justice to his actions but the consequences... This idea of _dirty work_ was very interesting and exciting. Maybe my addiction to sexual pleasure was more than just a permanent side effect from a poorly tested drug. It ran in my blood. The need more pleasure and pain, control and freedom, bondage and release. Of course, i wasn't just of Holmes blood. I was also a Adler and at this point of my life i was more of a Adler than anything else, even human.

I finally took my eyes off her leather and lace collection and moved down discovering leather gloves, heels of diverse shape and size, crops of different size, thickness and length. So many unique pleasurable toys. Everything was black, shiny and gold to the eye. It all looked like so much fun.

Reaching the end of the long closet i looked up, unknowingly of what i'd find. Before me, a long overcoat hung at the center of it all. It was black with discrete patterns in it. Six buttons line up equally. Accidental my fingers felt the fabric. Rough, and scratchy. I grabbed the hanger from which it hanged carried it out the closet. I wanted a better and clearer look at it. My cocaine filled eyes were too distorted. I carefully laid it on my mother's bed. I scanning it with the best of my focus. It rushed to me adding a throbbing pain in my head. It had to of been Sherlock's coat. It was hanging in my mother's closet like a trophy. She kept my father coat hung in her closet of affairs as a selfish trophy. How pathetic Irene.

Fuck. My mother kept so much from me, in the past couple years i've been discovering just how vile of a women she was. Yes she was good mother to me, kudos to that but her purpose outside of that was just unpleasant. She left my father's jacket and scarf as some a souvenir rather a remembrance of love she never had. Nor my father or mother love each other it was just a game to my mother and a duty to my father. Knowing that angered me. I was creation out of hate, evil and payback. I couldn't help but feel i was paying her their mistakes. My existence was a burden to them both, now my mother is dead and Sherlock might as well be dead. I would never be good enough for him. Irene abandoned me and so did he, basically. I grabbed the overcoat and threw it on the floor in a burst of anger.

"I didn't ask to be born!" I screamed at the coat.

I picked up the axe i sat next to the closet door. My pulse was racing, my heart was pounding endlessly in my chest i could almost see it beating, a knot was forming there. My eyes were straining back not to cry. My cocaine trip was turning bad.

I swung the axe unconsciously, it crashed in the dresser beside me.

"I hate you!" I yelled driving the axe back in the dresser making another gash in it.

This high was sinking. I couldn't hold it back anymore longer. My red eyes were getting worse only because water started to surface. My vision was clutter together seeing nothing but blurry pictures of the metal axe swing into unmoved objects. Dust of twenty years ago being kicked up only causing the tears to get worse. All the repressed emotion was finally coming to surface. My mother abandonment, because of her possible terminal illness. Either way she was going to die but she didn't have to this whole other world from me. I had a right to know. Now everyday almost i'm finding out what kind of sick twisted person she was. It doesn't make everything better just because she left me all this money and divine living. Fuck no. It's turned me in an arrogant asshole. Money couldn't buy me comfort, happiness or peace of mind. I was bitter, antisocial, miserable and reckless. For god sake! I'm cooked out of my brain right now swinging an axe aimless pretended its either her or Sherlock. Damn him for being so careless. I was everything he did not want to happen. Disgrace. I quit living up to his, no Mycroft's expectations to become a mini Sherlock because yet at the same time i wasn't allow. If i dared to even be within three hundred feet of him i'd be shot dead. Maybe i should try.

Astraying from reality into this irritable mental expression i couldn't hear anything but the loud grunts that came from my foul mouth and the bashing, crashing and lashing of the axe hitting in the walls, the dresser and closet door. I think i even swung at the floor a couple times. This mad explosion surrounded me.

Suddenly i felt the presence of someone in the room with me. I could feel the warmth of their ore sneaking up on me. I quickly turned, my eyes bloodshot, crying like a child, very distasteful. I held the axe firmly in hands ready to swing at any given moment.

It was Mycroft.

I straightened myself up, smoothing my shirt and pushing my hair back into place. Not like it moved really, messy. I whipped my nose grossly on my sleeve and tried to mask my medicated eyes.

"What are you doing Mr. Adler?" He sounded more than annoyed.

It's almost been a year since i last saw Mycroft and he decides to show up when i have a moment of bottled emotions. Fair weather friend? The opposite actually. He loved making an ass out of me.

"Making firewood." I was sarcastically.

He leaned against the doorway with his hands in his expensive suit pockets. He was scanning me looking for any injuries or potential danger and my near objects. Sighing deeply giving me rolled eyes, "I see you found Sherlock's overcoat." He glanced at it then back at me.

"My mother was a dominatrix."

I tightened my grip on my axe. From day one, she was a liar. This life she lived before me, i had to find out instead of someone laying it all out for me. The more i found out the less of a righteous women i thought of her. She was ruthless, unmodeled criminal. I just happen to be her miscalculated offspring. I was dumb enough to carry out her name.

Mycroft could see the contemplation on my face, he was pushing my buttons. "Not to scrutinize Mr. Adler. but you are no Saint yourself."

He wandered slowly over to me. His hands in his pockets, looking around at the mess i made not looking surprised. He stood at two feet distance. Glaring, concentrating on me.

"I'm no criminal." I clenching my teeth.

"No, but aren't you guilty of the same strange asphyxiated erotic pleasure?" His head fell slightly left.

I didn't have to answer that question. He and i both knew the answer. This addiction ran in the blood, obviously. My mother's collection only provided me with more evidence that this codependency was hereditary just like my Autism.

"The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. They say."

He was more than getting on my nerves. Who was he to tell me my emotionally carryout was wrong?

"Being so preeminent on cocaine you're well on your way to being like your father." He smiled that sickly grin.

I felt my clutch on this axe squeeze tight to the point my palms were burning.

"I'm nothing like my father."

For some reason that came as an insult to me. Over the past years i well informed myself that i wasn't him in no way shape or form, i'd never be like him, and i'd never be good enough. I accepted that happily. If being miserable and an asshole meant i had to give up all my hopes and wants to refulfill his, fuck that. I was fine being who i was. And my mother? _Please_. As if. But the way Mycroft went about it this irked me. I could just pick up this axe and...and.. Oh my god.

"You aren't a murdered either Mr. Adler." He said from under his brows.

As the words came marching out of his mouth i came to realize my clasp on the axe was dangerous. I held it in my hands just at the right angle to where in the blink of an eye lift it up and take a hit against Mycroft's head.

Imagining the whole scene play out in front of me;

_I'd pick the axe up in a blind fury of anger against Mycroft for comparing me to my lying mother and my impeccable father. I'd swing, cracking Mycroft in the head, killing him almost instantly. His body would fall to the floor, just like Mr. Heartly's blood would go everything after pulling the axe from his head. After i hacked up, dismembered his body i would walk away and enjoy a glass of whine. How would i get away with it? I wouldn't. Plead insanity, it'd makes sense. Sure, i'd be in Ashworth for the rest of my life but what life was i really missing out on? I'd be sending the world a message, the Holmes are just as human as we are. Nothing to fear. And one foolish Holmes man pissed me off past boiling point. It was brilliant plan. _

Coming back to reality i knew i wouldn't do that. I psychically, emotion and mentally could not handle that again. I relaxed my grip completely of the axe. It fell from my hands, smashing against the floor along with my anger. I couldn't believe i had a thought like that. Picturing Mycroft's death thanks to me. Oh god. In the end of all this he still saved me from Mr. Heartly, saved me from being put in prison for the rest of my life. I should be thankful, not planning his murder. He was only trying to save me, but from what this time?

"I envy Adalynn." My voice was cracking, holding back the tears again.I looked at him helplessly, water glazing over my blood red eyes. I put my head in my hands muffling my speech, "This..would been a lot...easier if you ..were just my dad."

I stood there sobbing, crying, wailing like a child. Balling myself up, retreating every mature intention inside me. God i was tired of this emptiness. I can't do this anymore.

Suddenly, i felt two large arms wrap around me. Engulfing me in a warm, stiff embrace. Pulling me in tight, "I'm sorry Roman." His words were right in my ear. Mycroft was the one hugging me.

Mycroft Holmes hugging me. Showing affection to someone other than his daughter? I must have really looked like a atrocity. I was a pathetic fool. His embrace only last for a few second, enough for me to understand his remorse for me. He let go of me and began to straighten back out my shirt not looking at me but maybe, i could see his eyes watering. I don't know.

"Now, Mr. Adler... pull yourself together. You are too old to be acting so childish."

His words contradicted his actions. Hugging me, nearly crying now telling me to basically man up.

"Why did you come here in the first place?" I asked wiping my eyes.

"Other than to stop your destructive temper tantrum?" A weak smile popped on his face, "I needed to talk to you."

"About?"

"In these past two year's i've basically left you alone. Seeing how you'd maintain and adapt on your own," He groaned, "Mr. Adler what has gotten into you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You completely isolate yourself, only leaving your residence to feed that... uncanny problem of yours." His face coiled, "and associating yourself with that arrogant wealthy American boy Trevor Gallagher, is that his name?"

_How does he know about Trevor? ...Butler Taylor, damn you. _

"He a friend from school." I imply.

"Hmm. Friend?" He cocked his head up, "i'm not sure Mr. Gallagher has friends."

"Why not?"

"Other than his low academic performance and his influenced dependence to drugs? People like him don't have friends. It's called the Sinking Ship Affect."

_Sinking Ship Affect - ?_

I looked at him puzzled. I didn't understand what he was implying.

"The Sinking Ship Affect is when someone who clearly knows they have a problem, like an addiction and they surround themselves with loved ones who care about them and who put in so much time and emotion to help them. Meanwhile the addict is doing more harm than good," He breathed, "Eventually, once the addict realizes their ship is sinking they drown everyone on board with them."

I probably wasn't aware i was just gawking mindlessly at him. I never thought something like that about Trevor, could that somehow have some reflection back on me? I'm not out going like Trevor, and as far as loved ones go Adaylnn and Mycroft were the closest thing i had. And Adaylnn was obviously to my habits.

"You are just another passenger on his ship Mr. Adler."

Trevor's my friend….right? He's the one who talked to me first, the one who put out all the effort for me to be his friend. He was just lonely, like me. I was someone he could talk to without being judged. We had a lot of common interest. It was only fate that we became friends. I was happy to be around him, i felt alive again. And, i'm sure when he was with me he thought the same.

Then again, maybe i was just a passenger. I never stopped him from doing stupid things that would may have gotten him killed. I let him party and drink all he wanted, it kept him happy. I let him do whatever he wanted. It probably didn't help that i gave under pressure to him so easy. Doing exactly what he did. Hey, he made it look like fun and literally it was. I don't regret experiences i shared with him. But now to know i was influencing his demise and even joining in on it didn't sit well with me. I was stuck. If i turned against him, try and help him he'd only get worse, if i let him be he'd get worse. Fuck.

"I want you to stay away from him." Mycroft spoke.

"He's ….my friend."

"Not anymore."

"I'm old enough to make my own choices."

His face was getting irritated again, speaking sharp with me, "Mr. Adler i _strongly_ advise you listen." he sighed, "you don't need someone like that controlling your life."

"What are you going to do ship him off to Korea too? Plus, the only one trying to control my life is _you_." I bite back.

We locked eyes in a staring contest. Not exactly who will blink first, more of who would back down first. Over time i got better at standing my guard with Mycroft, he was too old to put up much a fight with me anyways. I was beating him at his own game.

"I see. Until then, Mr. Adler."

"Until when?"

Mycroft turned around on his feet, marching out the door looking pissed frankly. Did i win?

Butler Taylor followed in after him.

"You okay Sir?" He asked.

I didn't answer. I was too caught up in watching Mycroft leave. Was he hinting at a new game? Was it a threat? I hated to be threatened. What did "_until then_" fucking mean?

"Clean this up." I stepped over Sherlock's coat. "Burn the coat."

…

Now don't get me wrong i did take Mycroft's insulting warning into debate. I started examining Trevor more often. Noticing his attention seeking skills and risky behaviors for no reason. The Sinking Ship Effect was clearly present but that didn't mean i had to separate myself from him entirely. So, that following weekend i invited Trevor to come over to hang out. I'd do my own experiment on him. i rewarded him with a shot of tequila when he wasn't putting treachery on himself. I think he was starting to catch on because he sat in my study room chair for a good hour just talking. I don't remember what we talked about, i had a couple shots myself. I assume he said something about his father having an affair and something about all the hot actresses he swore one day he'd fuck. Mistakenly, i brought up Ms. Lang. I told him about how she was my therapist, (i didn't say what for) and that her and i slept together for sometime. He really enjoyed that story. i didn't though. I was drunk, i shouldn't be thinking about her after two years. Was she even still alive?

When the liquor wasn't entertaining him to much anymore he offered to pay for some cocaine or Molly, then we could go out to a club. It was now time to move on to the next part of my test. I told him i quit doing drugs and partying. He looked at me with a dead stare for a minute then busted out in a humored laugh. I wasn't kidding. He tried to convince me otherwise for over twenty minutes but i wasn't going to proceed. In some fashion i was serious. I was moving on to my fourth year of university, it was time to grow up. I had to do this for me, and for him. I'm the rehab and he's the drugs. With that came the other users besides him he came to know. Within twenty five minutes after our debate he left. I wasn't going to stop him. I let him leave to fulfill his need. I understood why he chased that high. It felt amazing. I was a prisoner just like him but desire became incurable after Ms. Lang's departure. I ran, and ran for the feeling but it never came. So i stop running and started walking.

After that night i realized Mycroft was right. I'd go to hell before i told him that though. Trevor was just looking for another passenger on his sinking ship. I didn't want to be on it anymore, man overboard. Abandon ship!

When summer time came Trevor and i were drifting apart. Of course, i wasn't happy about it but i knew it was the best thing to do. We only hung out once a week or every other weekend. I was no longer fun to him anymore, i stopped doing drugs and i rarely drank. It was awfully difficult but after a week i made it through. If only Trevor could do the same. I missed him but work left me busy. Mycroft was able to get me a small job as a embalmer's assistant with lady named Molly Hooper. She was a nervous wreck all the time, always looking depressed, self esteem and ore were very dim all the time, a sapphire sky blue. I wasn't sure since her ore was always so faint, cloudy and shadowy. Because of stress at work and home, (raising two boys she told me) she looked years older than what she really was. She was hardly happy with her marriage, having casual affairs with co workers. I plainly saw it. On the other hand she was good at her job, sweet natured, kindhearted and just miserable on the inside. Shame.

However, she seemed to enjoy my company. I made her laugh at my lack of patients with the embalming equipment and the one time i had to crawl inside one of the modern creamaters to retrieve a bone fragment, was a terrifying. I feared someone would turn the machine on and fry me to pieces. I basically fell out of the machine onto my face frantically. She was crying laughing so hard. I'm glad i was able to entertain her, she looked younger when she smiled.

Molly knew Sherlock was my father. Mycroft must have told her, or maybe the older i got the more i looked like him. It showed. She often told me i looked a lot like him, acting like him to people other than her and she liked that. I treated her with respect because she treated me with respect. She told me stories of how Sherlock would insult her unknowingly. "_He says the meanest things sometimes._" She'd say. Molly cried a lot because of the things he said. No wonder she was emotionally a mess. My father was a heartless bastard.

I enjoyed working for her though, the job was easy and the closest thing i got to being a real licensed Mortician. I did all the duties of a real mortician, expect when i did autopsies, (rarely) Molly had to be with me. I was mainly watching rather than actually participating. That's what i was dying to do. Actually dive in and get lost in the human anatomy. A new body meant a fresh game. You start all over, searching for the same things of course but each body was different, special in it's own way. God, i couldn't wait to get my licensed and practice in my basement.

…

"I'm telling you, they're getting younger and younger each time they come in," Molly shouted to me from across the room.

I was in the prep room washing the apparatus for the autopsy.

"People are getting stupider and stupider." I called to her.

"That's for sure."

After i finished cleaning the equipment, laying it perfectly aligned with each other. Splendid. I walked cautiously handling everything. Don't want to drop it and repeat the process.

Opening the shifting door to the morgue I held the tools close to me. Out of curiosity my vision laid on the body laying on the table. I dropped the tray putting my hand over my mouth.

"What?!" Molly asked scared, "what's wrong?"

On the table, right in front of me laid someone i can't say i never thought i'd seeing laying there, but laying there now? No! _Too _soon. He was _so _young. He had so much going for him. God dammit! Trevor Gallagher was dead! His body was on that table dead. Skin pale, almost blue, unforgettable lips had no color, his black hair was greasy. No emotion. Oh god. His blood red ore wasn't there anymore. Trevor was just a corpse. No, he can't be dead, i just talked to him two days ago. We were supposed to meet up for some drink soon. School was starting a couple weeks.

My legs were giving out on me, Molly had to hold me up. I could not believe this. My friend is dead. Gone. No!

"What's wrong Mr. Adler?!" She tried to look at me.

"M…-m..Mycroft!" I muttered from somewhere in me.

This had to be Mycroft's doing. He killed Trevor. But why? I stopped doing drugs, Trevor and i hardly hung out. He had no reason to kill him.

Guilty of association.

I abruptly went out the door, leaving Molly confused and scared.

I wanted to run to Mycroft's house but he lived over eight blocks away from the morgue i had to get a cab. I don't have the patience to deal with traffic though, i thought if i was going to run, i would get lost. A cab was a horribly good idea. FUCK!

My manners flew right out the window somewhere down the road. Out the cab window. I was barging into his home uninvited. I wasn't even sure where i was going. This house was so big, i don't remember the lay-out. Fuck. I darted down a random hallway opening random doors finding nothing. My temper was getting worse not finding Mycroft. Was he hiding from me? That sly bastard wasn't going to get away from me. Hell no!

Finally, after about five or six tries i found Mycroft sitting in the dining room drinking some fine white wine. He's be expecting me? His position said it all.

"You killed Trevor Gallagher!" I said out loud.

"I don't know what you are talking about." He drunk from his glass.

"Don't play naive! I know you did it!"

"Where's your evidence?"

He had me there. I had no evidence against him. I just looked at Trevor's body and that was it. But it made sense that Mycroft would kill him. I still associated myself with him, (barely) even after he told me not to. His warning was weak did not hint at a possible murder.

However, i did clean up my act. A little.

"Papers are saying he was found at some drug party dead," he pointed to the paper beside him, "Were you present Mr. Adler?"

"No? I was at work, ask Molly."

_He's trying to pin this on _ bad i had an actual alibi. I was working with Molly that night. She needed help creating some bodies.

"I see. Well, i'm sorry for your loss." His words carried no emotion.

"...you take everyone i care about away from me." I could look at him anymore.

He sighed exasperated and tapped fingers on the table.

"Mr. Adler i did not kill Mr. Gallagher and until you have proper evidence against me i suggest you be careful who you point fingers at."

We locked eyes and began our mental battle. I couldn't lose, i had to break him down. I know he killed Trevor. It may not have been Mycroft himself but he hired someone to kill him.

"You have two hours." He began.

"For what?"

"I'll give you two hours to do find a proper prognosis. But!" His finger pointed to me, "you will do this autopsy alone. No help."

"And if i'm right?"

"You won't be."

I balled my fist up and turned to leave. I wasn't going to stand and let him tear down my assumption. He killed Trevor to make sure i would no longer have anything to do with him. And he'd make a shitty doctor. A waste. If this was a game to him, sure, i'll play. But not fairly.

I was about to the door before Mycroft stopped me, "I know you are going _crazy_ to become a Mortician already, what better practice than on your own best friend. Isn't that right Mr. Adler?" I could hear him smile as he spoke.

…

When i returned back to the morgue i began my operation. Even though i was on borrowed time it took a minute to get the courage to make that Y incision on Trevor. This was my best friend. There wasn't any injuries to the outer part of his body. Only yellowish bruises on his arms where he shot up. The drug of choice would be found in his blood. Molly already took a sample of that before me. We were still waiting the results.

I brought the scalpel up to his chest. I looked at him for a second. I hoped he shoot up and this would all be one sick joke. I couldn't just accept his death so quickly. But in other to prove Mycroft wrong i had to put all emotional connections behind me. Once i pressed the blade to him, dragging it down to his upper chest. He did not move. Trevor was seriously dead. I hesitantly kept going. God. Making another incision on the other side, bringing it down, making a depression down his stomach, stopping a little above his belly-button. I was breathing dramatically to keep from passing out. Cutting open my friend for practice wasn't on my agenda...ever.

I had to keep going. I could no longer look at Trevor's face so i put a blanket over it. I peeled back the skin exposing him. His lungs were perfectly pink, his motionless heart still had blood circulating around it. I could see the beginnings of his intestines. Perfectly normal.

_1 hour left. _

I had an hour left and i wasn't find anything of foul play. No wounds of any kind inside and out. There _had_ to be something and if so it'd rest internally. When i opened his stomach i found nothing intoxicating. Just undigested food. What could it be? I took more blood, tissue, bone marrow samples.

It'd take about a half hour to an hour to the results back. I was on borrowed time. Fuck.

While waiting on the results of the samples i took i decided to do a head examine looking contusions, cuts and/or soft spots. Soft spots indicate fractures, possible broken skull, internal bleeding in the brain causing death. Maybe a brain aneurysm? I didn't have time to check. Fuck.

_15 minutes left._

The results finally came back. His bone marrow samples were fine. No deterioration from a position or gas. His tissues samples were a bit odd. The tissue in some places were disintegrated and almost burned ends. Possible overdose of a highly intoxicating drug? His blood sample confirmed my theory. Above average levels of beta-endorphins as well as dangerously high levels dopamine. Cardiac-Arrest?

_10 minutes left. _

10 minutes left. I quickly read his last EKG outcome. His heart beat was 197. Blood pressure, 112/185. His heart was imploding. Couldn't be Cardiac-Arrest. Oxygen 94% percent. No, no something wasn't right. Sure his vitals were all wrong and his body was haywire but he was rather healthy, his heart was normal up until the moments of his very death. I was running out of time. Something killed him! What was it!?

_Times up _

As soon as Molly came into to tell me time was up my phone vibrated. Someone was calling me. I answered out of breath from running around, "Hello?"

"Well Mr. Adler?"

Mycroft.

"What do you concur?"

I hung my head low scanning Trevor's lab results over and over again. Something wasn't right Cardiac-Arrest doesn't sound right. There was no way.

_Think Roman! Think!_

"Mr. Adler?" Mycroft asked.

_Ahh-HA!_

I found it. Scanning over the papers i found what i've been looking for.

"His beta-endorphins and dopamine levels were high because there a significantly large amount of Fentanyl in his system."

"Mhm."

"There's a fresh injection point on his arm," I glanced over to his arm, "There was more than a trace of Heroin in his system."

"Overdose?" Mycroft said.

"His Heroin was laced with Fentanyl, a drug that is thirty times powerful than regular Heroin. It's only sold to ...experienced users. Of course his heart rate would have sped up and shut down...looking like Cardiac-Arrest."

Even more reality hit me.

"So cause of death Mr. Adler?"

"...Accidental suicide." I swallowed those words hard.

The line was silent for a moment.

"Good job, Mr. Adler."

Mycroft hung up, as did i. I set my phone down and supported myself against a counter staring at Trevor Gallagher's body dismembered. All for nothing. I didn't have to rip him up like this just to find out it rested all in his nervous system. It was twisted Mycroft would have me do this. Having a real life implementation on my deceased best friend. But honestly... i had fun. This time crunching challenge was fun.

I was in the right field of work.

-End

_...Aw. I'm sorry Trevor didn't last too long. But i hope you liked it! Favorite, follow, review ...please? ^^ Love you. This chapter was deep. The little moment with Roman and Mycroft awww. Cute. BUT next week or Thursday...I DON'T KNOW look out for the actual start of my favorite character besides Roman. And i can promise you that They'll be around for awhile. Maybe~ You'll just have to read and find out. __**Chapter 14: The Project and The Watson. **__Excited? I know i am! :D Haha Roman is slowly getting over Trevor's death as he enters his FINAL year! Teaming up with someone for a semester project that'll change his life. OH MY OH MY OH MYYYYY! _

_~I'm really busy this week with working on getting my licenses and school work so everything is going slow. My house about fucking burnt down last night . Everything is okay though. With all that being said i don't know when chapter 14 will be up. Sorry! Lastly! If you read my other little story The Only Man I'd Ever Love i will HOPEFULLY have you updated by Thursday or Saturday. I'm so sorry it'd been a really hard week. _

_About the story, i know it's not exciting or the normal Sherlock fan fiction but you need to understand if i was vocabulary enhanced enough and could think like Sherlock or even John that's what i'd be writing. I'm __**huge **__fan of Smut (sexualness) between them, it's all i read. Thank you guys xoxoxo_


	14. Chapter 14 The Project And The Watson

_Extended Fanfiction (Sherlock)_

_By: Colvin_

_March 15, 2015_

_**Disclosure**__: I own nothing of the original characters or events from the original Sherlock BBC Television show. Also, information on characters and their relationships with each other may differ with time, even their life span. I'm only writing from the data provided to me from season 1 - season 3._

_Little Summary: Roman lost his only friend now what he to do? Carry on i guess. He starts his last year retaking a Human Anatomy class where there he is forced to so a semester project with a unlikely person. Who is it? Read and find out. I wanted to post this a day early cause i can. Let me know what you think! _

**Chapter 14: The Project and The Watson. **

Trevor's funeral was two days later. I didn't go. I sent my condolence and said my goodbye as i had to cut him up like i did. It wasn't my ideal goodbye, but when have i ever had the chance to give someone the proper goodbye? Never, that's when. Instead, i stayed home returning back to my life before Trevor. Working, studying reading, writing whatever i got my hands on. I quickly got bored. Although, I had no motivation to do anything, no drinking, that was depressing, no drugs, it was only fun when Trevor was around. My recreational active wasn't even fun anymore. I just couldn't. After Ms. Lang that addiction faded along with the feeling. Damn. All i thought about was My mother, curse that women, Ms. Lang i miss her touch and Trevor, that dumbass. He didn't have to die if he wasn't so stuck on himself and influenced by the people around him. Damn you Trevor, you selfish dick! ...On the other hand, Trevor's death taught me a valuable lesson: _Don't befriend/get close to anyone they'd just leave. _If not by nature's will then by the hands of maniacal Mycroft.

With the weather came the seasons. Halloween, children dressed in cheesy costume and system full of candy. A group of kids in the mid of the night came strolling by the house to play some kind of game of who could get the closest to my house without getting scared. One kid surprising enough made it to my front door. When they knocked Butler Taylor opened the door and man, i'd never seen a child run so fast. I felt a like a creepy old man wanting to scream at kids to get off my lawn.

Thanksgiving. Did England even celebrate thanksgiving? It didn't matter because i didn't. Making ridiculous amounts of food and have no one eat it? Waste of time and money.

Christmas. Ugh, i hated that holiday more than the rest. The season of being with friends and family. Not me. I haven't had a Christmas tree since the last one i spent with my mother. I vowed to never have another again. What was the point? I gave a gift to everyone everyday. A paycheck and my glance at my distasteful face. _Ah-humbug. _

…

Winter break was finally over. I was only a semester away from getting that diploma and becoming a licensed Mortician. Couldn't wait. This semester i only had to take three classes; Funeral and Human services, Grief Counseling and Funeral Cultural Costumes class. For fun, i took Human Anatomy again, one the plus side the professor was elderly so out of the nonexistence kindness of my heart i decided to help her out. Sorta like job shadowing. Ms. Ryelle was sweet and a easy target for someone to harass her to get a passing grade for the year. With me around i'm sure it will a smooth year.

It was the first day back to school from break along with a new semester. A new set of students excited to take Anatomy class. I was standing at the chalkboard drawing a diagram of the liver Ms. Ryelle told me to draw. I could hear the quiet chatter of girls staring at me making comments about me, "_He's cute_.", "I_s he the teacher? Looks a little young._", "_Look at his butt._" Okay. Enough, i was getting uncomfortable.

"Um ...professor? Where do i lay my class entry paper?" A female voice spoke.

Shit. They really think i'm the professor. But then again it wasn't like i looked like a regular student either. Slack, button up and an expensive jacket to match. Well, this might be fun, "On the desk." I commanded at them, still drawing.

Once everything calmed down and they awaited for my welcome. I knew i was going to drag this out for as long as i could. Why not have fun? It was my fourth year so after this i was going to spending my life inside my basement surrounded by corpses and silver metals

"Morning class." I began, "I'm Mr. Adler. Or just Adler which ever you prefer."

I glazed out to the many faces. Unique faces and expressions. All different kinds of ethics, gender, race and ore colors. Damn it was like looking out to a skittled nightmare. My eyes were squinting.

"Welcome to Human Anatomy."

I began to do the class run down Ms. Ryelle gave when i was first taking the class. The grading scale, attendance, projects, safety, dissections, and expectations for the class. Damn, i was doing pretty good. Maybe i could be a professor on my free time… nah i hated college kids and nevertheless within my first few year's i'd probably be sexually assaulted by hormonal girls with daddy issues.

"Any questions?" I asked when i finished.

"Yeah i got one. Since when did you teach my class Mr. Adler?"

It was Ms. Ryelle.

Her was soft wrinkled white skinned. Dyed brown hair, dressy clothes. And a bronze ore to match. She was small, brittle, hobbling over to me with her cane and a rather large bag in her hands. She had a meek smile on her face.

"Ahh! Ms. Ryelle there you are." I held my hand out for her to step up on the podium.

"Are you playing teacher again?" She asked.

"Just keeping order and stability."

She was a sweet old lady. Like a grandmother to me. I never had one of those. My mother said her parents gave her up when she was little. Could that have been a lie too?

"Everyone, i'm your professor, Ms. Ryelle." she patted my back laughing, "Since i'm getting old Mr. Adler is here to help me out. He's quite a card."

She began to repeat my lecture about the class.

"I already went over everything." I said going back to my drawing.

"Oh really? Thank you! I've been saying the same thing for over thirty years now. It's nice to know someone is still paying attention. But thankfully this year is my last year teaching, i'm retiring. Maybe Mr. Adler could take over since he seems to have everything under control." She laughed to herself. " But since this is only a semester long class i thought i do the biggest project my students normally do. It's my personal favorite and i think it helps with your social skills and enter reflection. This an entire semester project will over be human discovery and dissection!"

Okay, maybe i lied. I didn't retake this class for fun. I failed it because of this very project. It wasn't a hard project to do, the fact i had to have a partner was stressful and something i wasn't willing to do so i took a zero and failed the semester. She wouldn't allow me to work alone. Luckily my partner dropped the class that week. Then she tried to put me in a group of three and i said fuck that so I was partnerless and failing. Looks like i'm going to be failing again. Fuck.

"You will be assigned a partner for the semester. You two will have to work together properly in order to get a passing grade."

She continued to go over the project while i mentally prepared myself to fail once again. I wasn't going to do this. Ms. Ryelle was going to kill me. Out of boredom i began to draw the skeletal system of a cat. Simple.

"Christopher you will be working with hmm… uh Mr. Adler!"

I quickly turned to her, "I'm doing the project."

"Mr. Adler you can't afford to fail my class again or you won't graduate this spring. Christopher looks like a hard worker."

"I'm not doing the project."

"Yes you are. You need to class to graduate so suck it up."

Fuck!

She was right. I did need this class to graduate. But the stress inducing idiots here are going to be the death of me. Someone else was going to get the pure enjoyment of cutting me open to examine my dead body. Damn.

I sighed and accepted defeat.

This Christopher better not be a idiot or so help me God.

Once she finished assisting partners to everyone she directed us the lab to get started on the project. While every body pushed themselves in to get started I drug my feet in mild anger.

"You and your partner will today be retrieval the kidneys, liver, heart and gallbladder out of these replicated bodies." Ms. Ryelle spoke.

I took a place beside the representational body staring down at it. I put on a pair of gloves, like i really was going to be needed them. It was rubber, plastic and water based red jello. Blood. How dull. I like the real stuff. Blood, guts and the almighty glory!

"I'm Christopher." A hand was in my face.

I leaned back looking at the hand, it was rather small. I followed the hand up to a arm then a body attached to it. God damn he was short. Maybe only reaching up to my neck. He was very tiny, short and skinny with a average built. Weighing nothing more than a stick. His hair was sandy brown, hint of blonde? He used very little produce in his hair to create a mild wave. Pale skinned, smooth shaved features, breathtaking blueish gray eyes. He tried to match me in height by standing up army straight, but it wasn't working even with me slugging over this plastic body. He looked so familiar. Could i have had a class with him before? He wore a rather tight button down shirt with a weird blue, red and gray pattern on it. His sleeve were rolled up. He seemed so damn nervous.

"Mr. Adler, or Adler whichever you prefer." I ignore his hand shake. Returning my attention back the task before us.

"Right." He said moving about nervously.

"I'll get the gallbladder, liver and kidneys. You just get the heart." By the time i finished i was alright putting out the kidneys, "Your turn."

I watched him swallow hard and put on the gloves shakened. His compacted size made his tension overrule everything else about him. He was starting to sweat as his small-scaled arms reached up to the body.

"It's just practice." I assured him.

"I know," he placed in his hand down into the rubber and liquid jello. His face twisted into nausea. "I can't do this."

"Why?"

"I can't."

"Yes you can."

He shook his head panicked.

I grabbed his hand before it was fully out of the jello and shoved it back down. He made a gagging grunt. Was he going to throw up?

"Just grab the heart." I held his hand in as he tried to pull it out. He looked like he was going to have a heart attack.

My nerves with this squeamish idiot was running low. This was not hard and not at all gross in any way. How was he going practice on real bodies if he couldn't handle the fake ones? This is a needed skill in almost all medical fields. My god!

After a minute he finally got his needed object. Once he pulled it out to look. It was all over. His white face went ghostly, eyes glassy, pupils as big as Big Ben and his breathing accelerated. His legs locked up and his body collapsed to the floor. He passed out. Everyone began to gather around him while I leaned over the table to look at his unconscious body.

"Pussy." I said with a aggravating sigh.

…

"I'm sorry. I'm not good with blood." Christopher said as i handed him a ice pack.

"It wasn't even blood. It's water based jello." I pulled a chair up sitting in front of him.

He looked to be getting nervous again, more embarrassed than anything. He gave a blushy smiled and cheesy laugh.

I examined him.

_At least 18 years old, second year of school. Coming a upper middle class family, classic brand clothing. Anxiety problems because body shifting, finger twitching, compulsive lip licking. He's average educated, works in a cafe, the smell of coffee present and cheap clone. Didn't shower this morning, grease. Insomniac, tired eyes, low posture, aging skin already. Hemophiliac - Fear of blood. Passing out during practice. A career choice in nursing? No he wouldn't have made it this far. No. No. No. ...Forensics! The classing clothing, formal greeting, military stance with no back ground. He might be in the wrong field._

"Forensics?"

"Pardon?"

"You are studying forensics." I look at him distantly.

"Uh.. yeah. How'd you know?"

"I think you might be in the wrong field if you can't stand the sight of blood."

He shift uncomfortably in his chair.

"I want to be a detective. I'll get use to it." He said unsure of himself.

"Mhm. Why a detective?"

"My dad is kinda one, ...sorta. Originally he's a doctor." He said as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

"How about you? Doctor? You look like a doctor, or a professor in training."

"Mortician," my reply was quick.

"Oh?" He moved the ice pack on his head cringing in pain.

The silence came and sat with us. Christopher looked around at roaming people in the cafeteria. I'm sure he was getting uncomfortable with me staring at him so intently. I was just lost in his size and rare tone british voice amazed me for some reason.

"What are you staring at?" He sat up straight.

"You."

"Well please don't. You are making me uncomfortable."

"Why?"

He rolled his eyes, "I don't know. I just don't like it. Stop."

_Temperamental. Cute. _

I blinked confused at my thoughts.

_What? Stop Roman._

After i noticed his breathing elevating and unintentional neck twitching i decided to look away from him. Letting him calm down.

"You aren't English? American?" He queried.

This conversation was going into all kinds of directions. Interesting.

"Yes."

"How long have you been here?"

I stuttered, " a...about five years."

I didn't want to talk about me. There was nothing to talk about. My life was meaningless, a constant bore. My past was something i was honestly trying to now in this present moment i was placed with this immature, stubborn _thing_ to work on a project for a whole semester. I might as well not do it at all, with or without him i'm going to fail.

He looked down. "Again, i'm sorry about earlier. You might want to find a new partner. I'll just fail us both. I heard Ms. Ryelle say you needed this class to graduate. I don't want to stop you from that."

His pathetic, muted, sad face and low, raspy voice was getting to me. Was i feeling sorry for him? Pissed off, maybe. His inability to do that simple task was affecting us both. I knew i couldn't change partners i was stuck with him whether i liked it or not. Well, fuck.

"You are going to pass."

"I can't..."

I pounded my fist on the table and spoke deeply to where only he could hear, "If you say you _can't_ one more time i'm going to cut your tongue out with a spoon."

His eyes had fear in them, holding his tongue back in his mouth. Is it possible i could stare him into completing the project?

"I'll help you pass the damn class. It's _too_ kind of me i know," I flattered myself.

His face looked helped and angered at the same him. Dumbfounded.

"How?"

"Give me your phone."

"Why?"

I sighed and rolled my eyes with great aggravation, "by God! Shutup and do what i say."

This guy was bringing a dangerous side out on me ever since i met him. I wanted to demand him around. Take control of him. Get in his face. He made my blood move and my temperature fluctuate. My hormones were spiraling in cornerless directions. The smell in the air changed. I haven't felt like this since… nevermind. He was getting on my nerves.

He hesitantly handing me his phone from his pocket. I put my number in it.

"I'll text you my address later tonight. Be there around ten. Don't be late." I gave back his phone.

"Why?"

"We are going to practice."

"Wha.."

I cut him off, "No more questions. If i hear another question i'm going to make you eat the table. Just be there."

His mouth was left open unsure what to say or think next. Maybe i was speaking to fast for him to understand what i was saying. Or he was observing me, I'll give him a moment.

"Alright." He nodded.

I stood up, putting on my coat, "I have to go to work. When you go home, lie down and rest. You could go into a seizure if you're not careful. Text you later, don't be late." I turned away, "Oh! What was your name again?" I asked.

He turned around to me holding the ice pack to his head with a innocent, teasingly happy look, "Christopher. Christopher Watson." He smiled.

Glaring at him i replayed his words over in my head a couple times, _Christopher, Christopher Watson. Christopher Watson. Watson. _Did i hear what i thought i just heard?

Once i realized i hadn't his name finally hit me. _Watson_.

"Shit." I said quietly to myself.

-End

_:D . . . Well? What do you think of Christopher? He's so cute. Ironic that they are working together? Hmm! REVIEW, follow, favorite. I love feedback bros. __**Chapter 15: The Irony and The Practice. **__Classic title huh? Roman just freaking a bit over who Christopher is and knowing he HAS to work with his a little nerve wrecking. Can Roman do it? And of course some more of Christopher and his weak ass self. xD At least each character gets to know each other a little better. Being expecting Chapter 15 Thursday or Monday! Love you guys... _

_About the story, this a new note. I personally think it's starting to get good. YES Roman will be meeting his father soon, i promise. Be strong my loves. I think you'd like the up coming chapters ^.^ xoxoxo_


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